


Little Green and Easybella

by Betti Gefecht (bettigefecht)



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: Autism, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Romance, Virginity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-06
Updated: 2012-06-06
Packaged: 2017-11-06 16:07:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 38
Words: 121,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/420771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bettigefecht/pseuds/Betti%20Gefecht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She only remembers a strange and silent kid. He had buried all memories of her long time ago, in order to survive. When they meet again eight years later, they feel an instant connection that isn't of this world, and a language of bodies so pure, so powerful, it pulls them under like a terrifyingly beautiful tsunami.<br/><b>ExB; AH; Rated M. Autism; Age gap; True love; Virginity; Lemons.</b><br/>Beta'd by the incomparable Songster, fastest beta in the west.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

****

(BELLA)

"It feels weird being divorced, doesn't it?"

That word, mercilessly catapulted from his lips, ricochets off the marble walls in the stairway like a bullet. And when the projectile finally hits it really hurts.  _Divorced!_

It's official; we signed the papers this morning. Why does it sting so much to hear him say it out loud? Why now, after months _(years?)_  of acquainting myself with the idea of getting...  _divorced_?

"Bella...?"

I don't need to look up at him. I can tell from the oh so familiar sound of his voice that he's going to apologize for the umpteenth time, and I know I can't stand it. I just can't.

"I'm ok. It just  _does_  feel weird, you're right." There's no way the smile I'm forcing onto my face reaches my eyes. It's just sad, but he buys it anyway; like he used to do... always. That is even sadder, and I want to cry. Like fucking now. Of course I don't.

"Friends, right? Bells?"

I pull him into a hug, that brother-sister kind of hug we have made a habit of.

"Friends for ever, promise!" I want to cry. Badly.

"I love you, baby." He kisses the top of my head, and it's like I'm slowly coming apart, disintegrating into my atomic components. It feels unreal. He lets go of me and takes a step back. "I want to thank you, you know... for everything. I know I gave you a hard time. You deserve so much better, and-"

I quickly cut in before I lose my shit completely, "It's ok.  _I'm_  ok."

I will cry later.

"Just... thank you." His voice is barely above a whisper. The uncomfortable silence that follows is something new between us, and suddenly all I can think of is that I want him to go, so this torture will come to an end. Finally he speaks again, "You sure about the car?"

_No I'm not sure about the car or the house or you and me or anything just take it and leave so I can finally crash and mourn the loss of my marriage and my best friend and any idea of what to do with my life without you..._

"Yes, I am. We've been over that a hundred times. I really don't need a car, but you do."

I shrug, grimacing in an attempt to muster another assuring smile. His answering smile is genuine; he believes me so easily. The tiny nutshell he lives in rearranges itself to his liking; in his own little world, everything is in perfect order again. And I envy him. Jake's never been troubled too long by anything, always the happy-go-lucky guy. It's not his fault. I just wish I was even half as oblivious to the unfortunate aspects of life as he is; it must be a blessing. I just wish I wasn't so goddamned scared.

He clears his throat. "Seth is waiting, so..."

Oh yes, my cue! One last hug, one last kiss on the cheek, one last _'we'll stay in touch'_. Then he grabs his bags and walks away. He doesn't look back. He walks out on me, and I'm alone.

_Divorced.  
_ _.  
_ _.  
_ _._

(EDWARD)

_I've been here before, so they tell me. As if I needed anyone to remind me. I remember all these places. Every street corner, every house, every store front window that has flickered by in the last whatever timespan... hours? Minutes? Guess I zoned out again. I do that every once in a while. But I never forget anything, don't they know that? Even if I wanted to, I couldn't forget a thing. My memory doesn't fade or blur; pictures remain sharp and clear. Which means, separating past from present is sometimes not without difficulty. It's a matter of training._

_The cab driver starts to slow down, and the stream of images decelerates too. We're almost there._ _When the car comes to a halt, I lean my forehead against the window and close my eyes. In that fraction of a second before my lids shut I notice that the laundry shop that used to be in the basement of the... my... our... house has been replaced by an internet coffee shop. The formerly brown stone walls are painted in a wanton strawberry red, covering the bricks and the joints all the same. The name is 'Plug Inn'. In huge white letters._

_All this is now imprinted in my memory too. Forever. My mind automatically superimposes the new image onto the old one. I switch back and forth between the two a few times, out of habit and because it is kind of fun, given that my mental red coffee shop still smells of laundry. I need to correct that. Or not. Who cares? However, when I get out of the car, the strong, pleasant smell of coffee hits me immediately. So I take a whiff, assign it to the matching memory layer and file it away. For good order's sake._

_Esme is still talking. I have no idea what she's saying, I deliberately don't pay attention to the words; but the constant presence of her voice gives me a warm feeling... an emotional flicker from my childhood that washes up uncalled, from deep down. She's been talking all the way from the airport, most likely filling the defenseless cab driver in on my extraordinary life. He should know it all by now..._

_...all about the silent and way too earnest 10-year-old foster kid, allegedly mentally challenged and a lost cause. All about the long adoption process and how the supposedly slow boy not only learned to master a language, but turned out to be highly gifted. All about boarding schools and special education programs and scholarships and advancement awards. And all about Esme's brimming joy to have me back for a while, her perfect son._

_She is proud of me, so she says. I have trouble relating to her concept of pride or her love, for that matter, but it makes her happy. And I am supposed to make her happy; I believe it is my part of the whole adoption deal. Considering everything she and Carlisle have done for me, the least I can do is try to make them happy. And much to my own astonishment, I've done a decent job so far. Well, they' don't ask for much._

_The cab guy looks somewhat tortured but is still listening politely to Esme while he opens the trunk and retrieves my luggage. Doesn't want to jeopardize his tip, I guess. The quick glance he throws me isn't friendly though. I'm quite familiar with that reaction and understand the concept behind it; like most people he thinks I'm arrogant._

_Wrong answer, dude. It's called autism.  
_ _.  
_ _.  
_ _._

(BELLA)

Who knew the world would just keep spinning as if nothing had happened? Well, it does. Apparently, the fact that Bella Swan, former Mrs. Black, is sitting on the fragments of her shattered life isn't as big a deal as I thought. Not even for Bella Swan herself which is almost disappointing. Maybe I'm just not that much of a drama queen.

Ok, I cried. Boy, did I cry! But it's been six days now since Jake left me to start a new life, and the crying stopped on day two. Just like that. I went totally numb.

On day three my ability to feel something came back in the shape of a full blown anxiety attack, and I ended up a shaking and sobbing mess on the floor. When I was finally able to suck in some oxygen again, I decided to adopt a cat as soon as possible, because I just couldn't stand coming home to an empty apartment every day.

On day four I visited the local animal shelter. It was devastating. All those abandoned cats in their tiny boxes – I wanted to take all of them home with me, and in the end I couldn't decide which one to rescue from this sadness. They all looked lonely, forlorn, they looked...  _divorced_. I ran from that place like a hunted deer.

On the fifth day I received a text message from Jake, informing me in fractured English that he and Seth had settled in well and already found new friends. Also, he finally had his coming out and has never been happier. He said he loves me and hopes I'll soon find that special someone who deserves me.

I pressed 'reply' and then I stared at the blinking cursor on my mobile display for a long time, not knowing what to answer. I really wanted to be happy for him, but instead I felt anger welling up. He didn't even ask me how I was feeling; he just told me he was happier than ever. Happier than he was with me, that is. Of course...

I was so stupid. I had always taken our marriage seriously, in spite of everything. And I loved him, I really did. Jake and I had been friends from our sandbox days, and everybody expected us to marry one day. It just seemed to be the right thing. But it wasn't.

So stupid, so damned stupid!

I was getting angrier by the minute. Five years! Five years of being his goddamn cover. Five years of nothing more than brotherly hugs and kisses – not counting the occasional blow job he agreed to endure. Five years of keeping the secret from everybody, five years of pretending, five years of hoping... yeah right, as if there's something like temporary homosexuality.

I didn't text him back.

And here I am, day six. Still kind of mad... at myself. But when I looked at my reflection in the mirror this morning, I couldn't help but laugh. Bella Swan –  _divorced_ , 25-year-old virgin. This is ridiculous, right? And the world is still spinning, which means, I should leave the house and do some grocery shopping. I've lost weight lately, and I can't remember if I have eaten anything at all during the last few days, to be honest. Yeah, I should eat something. Time to move on.

As I leave my apartment, I almost bump into Esme Cullen. We both burst into laughter, holding on to each other for balance. Other than my lonely, mirthless snort in the bathroom a few minutes ago, this feels good. I realize that I miss laughing with someone.

"I'm sorry, darling, I'm in a hurry – I'm going to pick up Edward from the airport now, I'm so happy. My baby is coming home!" She's glowing with excitement.

"Oh, it's today? That's wonderful, Esme."

I remember the sweet boy well. I used to babysit for the Cullens when I was seventeen. Edward was a special child, I think he was autistic? Yes, that was it. He rarely spoke, he preferred to communicate through touching. It was cute... all the stroking, patting and hugging. My teenage self felt very special back then, knowing he didn't touch just everyone, not even Carlisle, just me and Esme. He was also scared in the dark. Sometimes I stayed at his bedside, holding his hand until he fell asleep; he just refused to let go. Carlisle used to drive me home on those days. Later Edward was sent to a special boarding school, my job ended and I never saw him again.

The Cullens have always been very gracious and generous to me, even after Edward was gone. I guess it was because the kid wouldn't accept any other baby sitter; he was a stubborn child. He had those small cards he used to carry with him, and on one of them was my face and my name. Whenever he was introduced to a new nanny, he would just keep on pointing at that card and shake his head, so I was told.

Esme and Carlisle own this building, and when Jake and I married, they offered us an apartment for a ridiculously low rent. I am still grateful for that, more than ever actually, given I can still afford it now that I'm alone.

"I know, right?" Esme beams at me, "I just gave his place the finishing touches, stored the fridge, put some flowers on the table... the piano tuner was here yesterday. Everything is prepared. Oh, and he will be delighted to meet you again, I'm sure!"

"You think so? I don't know... it's been a long time, Esme."

Eight years. How old is he now, seventeen? Eighteen? I wonder if he's speaking more often now. The times of touching and cuddling are probably over. I snicker quietly at the thought of a six-dot-something foot boy on my lap.

"Of course! Edward never forgets a thing, and you know you were special to him, don't you? Oh, there's my cab. See you later, Bella..."

Well, at least I was special to  _someone_... at some point. As I watch the cab drive away, I make a mental note to include a jar of peanut butter in my shopping list. Little Edward loved peanut butter back then. Maybe he still does. And since the boy will be my neighbor for a while...

I smile to myself at the prospect. This is a welcome distraction, and I sure as hell need one.

_.  
_ _.  
_ _._

(EDWARD)

_Esme is looking up at me, and though the cab is gone, she's still talking. Obviously she's talking to me now. She reaches out and gently squeezes my upper arm, just like she always did when I was a child. It's her signal to let me know that she's going to say something important and that I need to zone in and listen. With regret, I snap out of my comfortable semi-trance and open up to the meaning of her words. She's talking about someone who lives here, someone I'm obviously supposed to know. Bella Black?_

_That name isn't in my memory. So I tilt my head and raise one eyebrow. When I was a kid, this used to be enough to make her elaborate things or answer my unspoken questions. Not anymore apparently; she just keeps on talking. I would correct her and tell her there's no way I know Bella Black, but it's probably not worth the effort. I avoid speaking if possible. So I pick up my bags and follow her inside. A young woman steps out of one of the apartments and smiles at me and Esme._

_Deep down at the bottom of my mind, something begins to stir. It's the place where I have stored away everything I don't want to look at. All the useless baggage that makes it hard to function; distracting things. Some painful things too. Each of them in a tiny lock-up of its own, in my dungeon of oblivion. One of these buried memories is rattling in its capsule at the sight of this woman. I'm willing it back into silence, back into the darkness. Things down there are locked away_ for a reason;  _I won't go there. No trespassing!_

_I focus on the conversation between Esme and... yes, this is Bella Black, and I don't know her. But my hands get all sweaty – maybe I do know her? I'm not so sure anymore. I hate missing links; they give me nausea. I like things structured. I like order. I make a quick inventory of names by different criteria; first names, last names, alphabetically, number of letters, sound. But there's not even a Bella by any other last name. Unless she's locked away down there? No trespassing._

_My carefully adapted social skills seem to have dissolved into thin air, I need help. I try to make eye contact with Esme to figure out what I am supposed to say or do. A handshake? I probably should speak, no? Something like 'Nice to meet you'? Or 'Glad to see you again'? But Esme isn't paying attention to me. Instead she approaches Bella Black and gives her a hug. Like that, is it?_

_This is weird. I don't like weird. I want to get this over with; I just want to go upstairs and finally touch my piano and calm down. Copying other peoples' demeanor has always served me well, so I don't think twice. If a hug is the appropriate greeting here, I can do that. As soon as Esme releases Bella Black, I drop my bags and take her place. The woman puts her arms around my waist and hugs me back. She is small – my chin comes to rest on the top of her head, and there's that scent, and my stomach turns._

_I can almost hear the crack, deep inside of me, down there... and I know it is that one mutinous capsule – it just breaks and shatters, and it isn't bad at all when suddenly all the pieces fall into place and I know she isn't Bella Black, she is..._ warm-easybella-cinderella-girlfriend-she-sings-and-her-dad-has-a-gun...  _and then my face is in her hair and I breathe her in and I_ want _to speak. But all I can do is moan so loudly, even I know this is not part of an appropriate greeting._

_But she rubs my back. Small, soothing circles on my back._

_And she says my name._

_My secret name._

_And I'm home.  
_ _.  
_ _.  
_ _._

(BELLA)

"Actually, it's Bella Swan again. Since Monday," I correct Esme with a wry smile.

Her eyes grow wide and she gasps. "Oh my god, I totally forgot about that! And here I stand gushing about my happy day... oh honey, I'm so sorry, how are you feeling? Are you ok?"

Before I know it, she has wrapped her arms around me in a motherly embrace. I assure her that I'm fine and pat her back, kind of absently – I can't take my eyes off of the stunning young man standing right behind her.

_Edward._

He looks older than I imagined, and God... he is so handsome it's not even funny. There's not much left of the skinny little boy I used to babysit. He's tall and hunky, with square shoulders and small hips. And his face... I don't know if you call men pretty? But he is. Really, really pretty.

Some things though haven't changed at all. That distinctive crease between his brows which gave him that constant look of mild disapproval when he was a child? Yes, definitely still there. And his eyes are still a disturbingly deep green. A line from a long forgotten song comes to my mind:  _Green like the nights when the northern lights perform..._

Esme finally releases me after I assure her for the fifth time that I'm ok. I don't even have time to lower my arms before I find myself enveloped in Edward. He totally catches me off guard; I giggle with surprise and awkwardly rub his back. His chin is heavy on my head and I'm kind of trapped with my nose in the small dent between his collarbones, inhaling his musky scent. He doesn't smell like a child, and he definitely doesn't feel like one, either.

For a moment I think that he might hold me a little too tight, and that I might like it a little too much. But then I remember the way we used to communicate. Apparently, he is still not much of a talker but I understand...

_He knows who I am._

With his face in my hair, he inhales deeply. And then he moans, making something in my stomach flutter.

_He didn't know how much he missed me until just now._

Without thinking I whisper our secret childhood nickname for him, so low only he can hear.

"Little Green."

_I remember you too, Edward, and I didn't know I missed you until just now either._

I feel him relax, almost melting in my arms.

_He is home.  
_ _.  
_ _.  
_ _._

(EDWARD)

_The piano has been tuned, I can tell that much. But it wasn't done well. I need to buy a wrest and correct that. The treble C is an eighth flat. So I don't play. I just put my hands on the shiny black surface. But it's not as much of a comfort as I thought; it's not what I really crave to touch right now._

_My Easybella. She's here._

_I thought I'd never see her again, when they sent me away. I had been sick, so sick... crying for days, unable to stop. I didn't know if it would ever stop. I would feel ok on one day, and then start hurting and crying all over again on the next. I couldn't bear it. So I had buried everything about her in that dark pit of my mind. Too much loss, too much pain... couldn't deal with it. So I pretended; I am good at pretending. Always have been. For almost eight years it was as if she never existed. Easybella just didn't exist._

_But she is here. And she remembers me. I held her and she responded. We were 'talking', like we used to do. Almost like we used to do. The language is different now. Just slightly off... like that eighth note on my piano keyboard. Only it isn't flat, it's sharp. Disturbing. Exciting._

_Once more, I look at my watch. 4:26 a.m. It is too early, still too early._

_Isabella my Easybella just Bella now._

_She's back in my life. She is, isn't she? So confusing._

_I usually don't deal well with confusion. But even the confusion is different this time. It's a tingling sensation in my stomach; it's pleasant. I don't want her to un-confuse me. I just want her to touch me again. I want to touch her instead of my piano. I want to hold her. Maybe I could play her?_

_4:42 a.m. Still too early._

_Bella._

_I play around with her new name in my mind for a while, getting accustomed to it. The missing syllables. The capital B... I like the capital B. I open my mouth to try the sound of her name but all I produce is a rasping noise that makes me cringe. My voice is a feeble mess, and yet it seems too loud, cutting painfully through the silence. When was the last time I spoke? I clear my throat and try again, whispering this time._

" _Bella."_

_And again, adding a little more tone._

" _Bella?"_

_Louder._

" _Bella!"_

_Higher._

" _Bella..."_

_I keep on testing, feeling, tasting, rolling her name off my tongue in different keys and colors until the sun is up. I slowly rise from the piano bench and walk over to my suitcase. I open it, slowly. I take my time to pick something to wear, slowly, slowly... When I finally decide on a pair of black denims and a simple black tee, I have successfully killed another 18 minutes. But it is still too early._

_In the shower, I remember one day when Easybella... Bella... once washed my hair. She'd thoughtfully handed me a washcloth and told me to press it against my face, so I wouldn't get shampoo into my eyes. I remember her caring fingers kneading and stroking my head, I remember her quietly singing to me when she rinsed my hair. I remember the faint vibration passing from her chest to the back of my head when I leaned into her as she sang. I remember the song..._

Just a little green  
Like the color when the spring is born  
There'll be crocuses to bring to school tomorrow  
Just a little green  
Like the nights when the northern lights perform  
There'll be icicles and birthday clothes  
And sometimes there'll be sorrow

_I remember how she used to call me 'Little Green' when no one else was listening. She'd called me that ever since the day she washed my hair. And now, with the smell of soap and warm water massaging my scalp, I can almost feel her hands again._

_The memory rekindles with new vehemence as I close my eyes and start stroking myself like I often do in the shower. Only this is the first time I wish it wasn't me touching myself. This is the first time I imagine it isn't me. The noise of the pouring water graciously takes the edge off my unexercised voice when I moan her name – exploring a completely new way, after all the earlier practicing, to utter those two precious syllables – as I come violently into the hand that I wish wasn't mine._

_While I wait for my legs to stop shaking, I briefly wonder whether all this is right or wrong. I have no reference whatsoever, so there's no use debating except for killing more time. Bella will tell me, won't she? She always knew, always helped me to figure things out. She'll know. She'll let me know. I just need to touch her and she'll let me know._

_When I have dried myself off, brushed my teeth and put my clothes on, it is 6:23 a.m. With my hand on the door handle, I turn into a living statue for another seven minutes. Then I'm done waiting.  
_ _.  
_ _.  
_ _._

(BELLA)

I wake up to the sound of my own moaning, with my hand between my thighs. I feel embarrassed and aroused and desperate all at the same time, but I can't bring myself to stop the frantic movement as I feel the heat in my groin build until I clamp my legs together and cry out in the solitude of my bedroom. Panting and whimpering, I roll onto my side and curl into a ball, release and sadness washing through me in equal measure. I feel like I did something illegal.

Well, this was the first night I dreamt of Edward Cullen...

The ring of the doorbell finally puts an abrupt end to my inner guilt-trip. I peek at the alarm clock; it's not even 7 a.m. I jump off the bed, whipping on my robe on the way to the door, and I'm not surprised at all when I spy through the fish eye. I just doze-masturbated in consequence of a wet dream about my former surrogate little brother; I suppose it can't get much worse.

I open the door. "Edward."

_God, he is so pretty..._

His hair is damp and he smells sweet of soap and toothpaste. He is all dressed in black which makes his skin look even paler and emphasizes the dark shadows under his eyes. Hasn't he slept at all? But his eyes, those impossibly green eyes are wide awake and bright, and they look at me, unblinking. He swallows hard, and then I hear his grown-up voice for the first time. And though he only utters two single words, it makes my heart beat faster.

"Hello... Bella."

I gasp and can't help but break into a wide smile. "You're speaking!"

He nods yes and smiles back, and my hand reaches out for him of its own volition. I touch his cheek and he closes his eyes and leans into my palm. "Hello, Green," I say – I cannot refer to him as 'little' any more, "Do you remember what you used to call me?"

He nods again, "Easybella." It's merely a whisper.

It makes me smile even more. "Yes. It's nice though to hear you call me Bella. Even at the ungodly hour of seven o' clock on a Sunday."

He is completely oblivious to my not so subtle innuendo. "I practiced," he says and opens his eyes, "Last night. I wanted to say it right."

"You practiced to say my name?"

Another nod.

"Come in," I laugh, and he takes my hand and I let him, because it's always been like that. He hardly ever lost physical contact with me when he was a child. Like a cute, little spider monkey.

So he holds my hand when I close the door behind him, and he doesn't let go as we walk towards the kitchen where I try to one-hand-operate the coffee percolator, not without difficulty. He notices my distress and releases my hand, but steps closer to me from behind, and then I feel his warm fingers in the nape of my neck. Skin... he always preferred skin on skin. I press the button and the coffee maker starts to gurgle.

"You smell good," he declares, and his breath is tickling my skin. It gives me goose bumps, and not the chilly kind.

I giggle sheepishly. "Oh right... hello, morning breath? Don't be silly, Edward."

He steps even closer; I can feel the warmth radiating from him on my back through the fabric of my robe, and then his arms are around my waist. "You  _do_  smell good," he insists, with a mild undertone of indignation in his new, silken voice.

My heartbeat accelerates with a rush of adrenaline. I am suddenly aware of the wetness still pooling between my legs from my 'private moment' in bed a few minutes ago, and I wonder if...

_God, can he... is that what he's smelling?_

I should be embarrassed, but actually the thought arouses me, and things get a little worse down there. My hands are shaking as I put them on his arms in front of me, halfheartedly trying to pry them off of my waist.

"Anyway... I need to use the bathroom now, so you should let go of me, ok?"

He doesn't take his arms away but loosens his grip, so I can turn around. His hands come to rest on my hips. It doesn't feel so innocent any more, and I'm quite sure we are about to cross a line here. He is not a child any more. His eyes are half hidden behind his long lashes because he is looking down on my...

_He is ogling my cleavage!_

No, not a child any more... I catch myself wishing desperately for him to like what he sees. Does he find me attractive? As a women? God, how I crave to feel wanted for once. Is it wrong that I want a man to want me like this; the way my husband never did? Definitely not, I think. That I want  _him_  to want me like this? Oh yes, definitely wrong! I grab his wrists.

"Edward, I don't think this is really appropriate any more. You can't just touch me like you used to do, when you were little."

His eyes find mine, and that signature crease appears between his brows. His lips part slightly and twitch as if he wants to say something and is debating how to put it. And God, he is so pretty!

Instead of letting go, he tightens his grip on my hips and pulls me closer. I feel the need to swallow, but my mouth is too dry and, God help me, I so want to cross that line. And then he speaks, with that totally earnest expression on his face and that velvet lilt to his voice, and he enunciates every single word so pointedly as if he'd rehearsed that too, as he did with my name.

"Everyone knows I am socially inept, so no one will blame you if we get caught."

I gape at him incredulously for a second, and then all edginess leaves me and I burst into laughter...

_.  
_ _.  
_ _._

EDWARD

_She's laughing out loud as if I'd said something funny. Did I? I have no idea, but her laughter is catching and I grin involuntarily. It rather feels as if the grin... is grinning me. I like that. I have performed way too many grins in my life without feeling like it, just for the sake of blending in. I also like the sound of Bella laughing._

_Still giggling, she playfully punches my chest and calls me cheeky. Apparently, she thinks I made a joke. It slowly dawns on me, that maybe I should have? It would have been a smart move, joking to lighten the mood. I can sense her distress, really_ sense _it – not analyzing body language and facial expressions and calculating their meaning, but feeling it. It's always been like that with her. Intuitive. Only with her. And I don't want her to feel uncomfortable, and most of all I don't want her to think this – us – is_ not appropriate _. I want to hear her laugh again. I decide to give it a try._

" _I don't think anyone would blame me either. You are pretty, I bet every man wants to touch you."_

_It doesn't work. Her laughter dies. She falls silent and frowns. I suck at joking, I should have known. Somehow I made her sad; this went totally wrong. I shouldn't speak at all. I cup her face and make my forehead touch hers to tell her I'm sorry. Though I don't understand what I did to make her feel bad. But whatever it is, I'm sorry I did it. And she gets me. Of course, she gets me. She says, it's not my fault._

_Not my fault. Someone else's fault then. Who? And what did they do to her?_

" _It's not your fault, Edward," she repeats, and then she ducks away from under my hands and moves towards the bathroom, and my hands have never felt so empty. And I follow, I follow her magnetic pull. And I say her name, out loud, and I didn't even mean to speak. She does that to me. I am completely filled with her presence and her beauty and my want for her, I can hardly breathe. I'm overflowing and I don't know what this beautiful mess is called. But if it has a name at all then it must be hers... those two precious syllables. It's spilling over and I can't keep it in, and so her name drops from my lips._

" _Bella..."_

_And she stops walking and turns around. Thank God, she stops walking away from me. She leans back against the bathroom door and I take her hand again. Good... this is good._

_I want to tell her so many things... how much I missed her, how much I crave her touch, and that I don't want her to go inside where I can't hold her. I don't want her to go inside the bathroom and wash away the scent... THAT scent... that intoxicating essence of Bella-no-more-Easybella that engulfed my senses from the moment she opened her door. I want to tell her about the hunger she arouses in me, the painful desire to touch her in ways I never wanted to touch anyone before. I need her to know about all this, and the only way I know to say it is through my body and I pray she'll let me..._

_I bend down ever so slowly, bringing my face closer to her face, inch by inch bringing my mouth closer to hers. And she tilts her head ever so slightly, up and up and a little more up to meet me. She gets me. Of course, she gets me. Her lips part and her breathing is getting a little labored, and so is mine. And her body says yes, and her scent... that scent says a thousand times yes. And my own body's answer is loud, so loud it almost hurts. The heat. The throbbing. A thousand times yes._

_I slide one hand behind her, to the small of her back, and pull her towards me... slowly, ever so slowly. And then our hips meet and I feel her_ there _and – oh, this sweet torture – I press into her and moan like I did in the shower, only this is a thousand times better, a thousand times yes. And again I speak in spite of myself. I don't mean to but I can't hold these words back, and with my lips almost, almost touching hers, I whisper them into her ragged breath._

" _Bella... Bella, it burns... I'm burning for you..."_

_With a little sob, she raises her hands and cups my face, and then her mouth is on mine, all supple and wet, all lips and tongue. And I hold on tight, so tight to her because it is all I can do not to relent to the blissful weakness that washes through me... it is all I can do not to pass out when we finally, finally kiss.  
_ _.  
_ _.  
_ _._

(BELLA)

He is burning for me... does it mean what I think it means? Does this beautiful man want me like  _this_? Am I  _wanted_? I throw myself into that kiss and it feels like nothing I have ever felt before. It _feels_  like I'm wanted. My stomach explodes and melts into something like hot magma running down in a slow stream right to my center, where I can feel the evidence of his want pressing into me.

We break the kiss and stand still for a moment, forehead to forehead, panting, trying to catch our breath, silently asking and gaining each other's understanding. This is familiar and new all at the same time. There's that physical communication we always had, so at home with each other. And there's this overwhelming, never known sensuality and passion. And yes, I'm burning for him too.

He puts his palm against my chest, right over my galloping heart. Then he takes my hand and places it on his own heart which is beating just as frantically as mine, and we stay like this I don't know how long, just feeling each other's heart beat. I almost jump when he suddenly speaks.

"How do normal people do it?" he asks hoarsely, and I'm at a loss for a second. I have no idea what he's talking about... sex? Whatever he wants to know, I'm certainly the wrong person to ask. But he continues, "Is it always like this for normal people? How do you cope with so much... emotion? It's like my chest is going to explode, like everything is spiraling out of control... I can't... I can't breathe easy and I feel weak. I think I need to sit down."

And with that, he sinks down in front of me – very gracefully I might add – until he is on his knees, sitting back on his heels. He slings his arms around my legs, bumps his head against my thigh and lets go a long moan.

"Edward, please..." I grab his upper arms, trying to make him get up, "come on, let's get you..."

_into my bedroom_

" _..._ somewhere we can sit down, ok?"

He slowly rises to his feet, never losing contact in the process. He holds on to my waist first, and then takes my hand as he follows me...

_into my bedroom_

...and as he sinks down onto the mattress, he pulls me towards him to once again wind his arms around my middle. He buries his face in my terrycloth clad stomach and groans. I stroke his hair soothingly; he is shaking like a leaf.

"Edward?"

Another groan rolls through his chest and resonates in my lower regions. I am sure he can smell my arousal now, and for a moment I am afraid it might gross him out... like it did Jake. I try to step back, but he is clinging to me for dear life.

"Edward, what's wrong?" I am close to tears. "Words, please?"

Finally he tilts his head to look at me. "How can you stand this aching?" he whispers.

"What...?"

"I don't know what to do, you need to tell me how-" He swallows loudly. "Help me. You know things; you always did. You need to tell me."

_God...!_

"I have no idea, Edward. What do you want?"

_Please... let it be me. Please say you want me!_

He pulls me closer until I am straddling his legs. Then he makes us resume our former position, with our hands resting above each other's hearts, and looks at me expectantly. But I need more, I so desperately need to hear it.

_Say it!_

"Talk to me, Edward... what do you want?"

_Out loud!_

He opens his mouth, and I hold my breath...

_.  
_ _.  
_ _._

(EDWARD)

_She wants me to speak. After the longest speech I've ever made to a single person before my knees gave way. She is asking for words when I am a shaking throbbing aching mess underneath her, unable to stop or even dim the storm inside of me. I am not used to such a degree of feeling, it tears me apart. And yet I don't want it to end, I just want –_ need _– something to happen to it, something to do with it._

" _What do you want, Edward?"_

_She wants words. Anything for her. If she wants words, I'll speak. But how do I say it? Is there a name for the emotional tsunami that's pulling me under? Do normal people have words for this... turmoil? This all-consuming desire?_

" _I want..."_

...you to lay down with me ...to have sex with you ...you to be mine ...you to relieve me of this torment ...to make love to you ...you to take my virginity ...to touch you everywhere, without clothes ...to be with you as man and woman to ...be with you ...to be inside of you...

" _...you!" I finally blurt out._ _"I_ _want you so badly, it makes me sick!"_

_She takes a deep breath, as if she's run out of oxygen. And then she starts to whisper questions, and I know... once more I know... even with my total lack of words, she gets me. She always gets me. And I answer her questions; I only need to nod my head because the answer is always yes. A thousand times yes._

" _Does that mean you want to have sex with me?"_

_Yes._

" _You want to be with me as man and woman?"_

_Yes. Please, yes._

" _You want to touch me while we're both naked?"_

_Yes. And if I have to beg for it, I will beg._

_She takes my hand, the one that's resting above her heart, and slides it underneath the collar of her robe and a little further down._ _"L_ _ike this?"_

_Her breast is in my palm, soft and warm in my palm, and this time there's no nodding._ _"Y_ _es..." I sigh, and I'm not embarrassed that it sounds like a whimper. I find her nipple and as it hardens under my touch, Bella moans quietly. She moans and I can't hold back any longer._

_I beg her._

" _Please... you don't know how long I've waited for you. Let me make love to you, Bella. Please let me love you..."_

_She doesn't answer, she just silently unties the belt of her robe. I reach up and slide the fabric off her shoulders and down her arms, and her beauty takes my breath away. I know she wants words. It's different now and for some reason she needs words. I just know she does, and so I tell her._

" _Your beauty takes my breath away."_

_And as I look up again, there are tears in her eyes, tears rolling down her face. But she is smiling at me, so her tears don't scare me. I just kiss them away, one by one kiss her tears away, as she did with mine back when we were Little Green and Easybella._

_She reaches for the hem of my tee shirt and I raise my arms and let her peel it off over my head. Her hands roam my upper body... shoulders, chest, down to my stomach, up again to my chest... and my breath hitches and my heart is beating in my throat. Her thumbs caress my nipples, and I'm glad I took care of myself in the shower because otherwise I might come in my pants right now._

_I gently cup her full breasts and copy her tender fondling, circling my thumbs over her taut peaks. She bites her lip and it does weird things to me, seeing her doing that. She looks me in the eyes and holds my gaze as she removes one of my hands and moves it downwards._

" _See how wet you make me," she whispers, and then my hand is right_ there _and I almost lose my mind. Heat and soft flesh and moisture and her scent..._ that _scent... it is everywhere, consuming me, calling me._

_She gets up and away from my hand, and the loss of contact cuts through me painfully like a cold knife and I cry out. She shushes me and says,_ _"T_ _aste it." I don't know what she is saying, I just want her back. But when I reach out for her, she shakes her head no and pushes my hand,_ that _hand, towards my mouth._ _"D_ _on't you want to taste?" she asks, and I finally understand. Without hesitation I put my fingers into my mouth, all four fingers in my mouth, and my eyes close of their own volition. I taste Bella, and she tastes divine; and thinking of where I collected that taste makes me dizzy._

_When I open my eyes again, I find Bella kneeling between my legs. Her robe has fallen down to the floor, finally leaving her beauty completely uncovered for me to take it in. I want to drown in her, I want to breathe her, drink her in. I make a silent promise to myself to never, never hide the memory of this in a capsule, no matter what. I will treasure this as long as I live._

_She looks up at me from under her lashes. Her cheeks are flushed and still glistening with traces of her tears... and maybe of my kisses, too. I'm so intoxicated by her taste and by the sight of her naked form, it's hard to think. And she's worrying her bottom lip again. Her lips are glistening, too. We are both panting. It's the only sound in the room, and our breaths are perfectly in unison._

_When she asks me if she may take off my jeans, I nod again. I don't know how I am supposed to live through all this feeling, if she's going to touch me there. But I'm almost reduced to nothing but feeling anyway by now, and I want this... God, I want this, so I just nod yes. Anything for her. And a thousand times yes.  
_ _.  
_ _.  
_ _._

(BELLA)

_He wants me. He wants me. He wants me._

The thought is like a broken record in my mind. He thinks I'm beautiful and he wants me. I feel lightheaded and everything happens in a daze. Am I really doing this?

_God help me, yes!_

He is eighteen, I try to persuade myself for the umpteenth time. I deserve this, hell knows I do. And he wants it, too.

I make quick work of his button and zipper and he raises his hips to help me. I shove his jeans and boxers down at once; of course they get stuck at his feet. He sits down again and gingerly strokes my cheek and my hair while I take his shoes and socks off.

As soon as he is rid of all his clothes, I sit back on my heels and take a look. He is so different from Jake in every way I don't even know where to begin. Jake has never been that hard. Never. And I always believed it was my fault. After a while I dreaded the look and feel of his veined  _thing_  that just wouldn't respond to my touch, and I didn't mind when we finally stopped trying at all.

Edward's penis is really... pretty, actually. It looks smooth and it arouses me to see it stand up and twitch, almost tapping his toned stomach. I feel ridiculously proud, knowing this is because of me.

I want to touch him, I want to pleasure him. I ache to see him come undone because of me.

He looks at me with those northern lights eyes, hooded with desire, and suddenly I feel insecure again. What if I'm doing this wrong? Jake always gave me instructions, hissing commands all the time until he would shove me away to take things in his own hands and finish himself off. I never did it right. But it is the only thing I've ever done...

_Stop thinking!_

I scoot a little closer, with my hands on his thighs. I should ask him... yes, I should ask him. This is Edward, I trust him. He will tell me if I do anything wrong.

"Can I touch you, Edward?"

He lets go a shattered breath and his eyes flutter close. Then he nods his head ever so slightly, I'm not even sure if he actually meant to. Is that a yes? My hands slide up his thighs until my thumbs reach his groin, caressing his V-line.

"Edward?"

Without opening his eyes, he breathes, "Please..."

And finally I am able to ban any thoughts and memories of Jake from my mind. There's just Edward who wants me. Edward who is hard for me; because of me. I take him into my mouth, carefully... I don't want to hurt him... just the tip, and his whole body stiffens. Has he stopped breathing?

I swirl my tongue around his glans one time. His hips jerk, and then his hands are in my hair and he gasps-moans-cries out. _Because of me!_ I take him in a little deeper, and every sound I elicit from him is like an electric bolt running through me, right down to my core. God, I must be dripping right now...

His hands hold my head, gently. Never demanding, not giving directions, but encouraging, approving. And his noises... he is so responsive; I think I could come just from this. I get lost in his pleasure as it becomes my own.

His legs start to quiver and I know he is close. But I want... I need him  _the real way_... now. I can't wait any longer; I want Edward to be the one for me.

_But I need to tell him. He needs to know..._

I release him with an embarrassing little plop, and when I raise my head I find him looking down at me appraisingly, and the mixture of love and lust in his eyes almost makes my heart stop. A silent understanding passes between us. I don't need to verbalize what I want; he wants the same, just as badly as I do.

_But he needs to know…_

"I've never done this before, Edward."

_.  
_ _.  
_ _._

(EDWARD)

_What...?_

_I don't understand. It's so hard to think when every single cell of my body is charged with that screaming desire for her. What did she just say... never did... what? I need to ask. I feel like I have used up all the words for one day... words, so many words... but I need to ask, even if complete sentences are unmanageable right now._

" _Sex?"_

_She doesn't answer but there's a yes. Somehow, I get a yes... she's never had sex before. A few mental blueprints start to shift creakily in my mind, nothing seems to fit anymore. This is not what I expected. Esme told me she was married, but what... how...? Is she like me? Are we equals in this? Is she still a..._

" _...virgin," she barely mouths,_ _"I_ _'m sorry."_

_What is she sorry for? I don't want her to be sorry for anything. I need to give her more words, however difficult it may be. I need to be responsible. She can't tell me anything, she doesn't know much more than I do. But we can..._

" _...learn together, Bella. We can learn together, right?"_

_Please say yes! More words?_

" _This is my first time too, but we can learn together, can't we?"_

_Her eyes widen, and all she utters is a surprised little "...oh!" This is unbearable. Can't she just... know? Like she used to do? Can't she just let me know it is alright? She licks her lips and swallows. She is anxious, full of doubt. Why? What more does she want me to say?_

" _Bella?" Please..._

_And then she speaks._ _"Y_ _ou're shaking..." she says._

_And it's true. The desire to be close to her is overwhelming. The fact that I don't know what she needs me to say is almost killing me. The way her left breast is twitching rhythmically with each beat of her heart is mesmerizing. There's a rosy flush on her chest, and her scent is like a siren call. I force myself to wait for her to say the words. But she has more questions instead._

" _Did you like what I did... here?" she asks, putting her warm hand on my erection, and I almost growl. Images of me taking her and flipping her over and burying myself inside her flash through my mind. God, couldn't she tell? Is this new vocabulary so strange to us that she couldn't tell it blew my mind? I can't do this any more... I've run out of words!_

_I just grab her and make her rise and pull her with me as I let myself fall back. We both moan when she comes flush to my chest and her naked belly is grinding against my throbbing need. The feeling of her skin on mine makes my head swim and I sigh the only word I've got left into her breath again and again..._ _"B_ _ella... Bella..."_

_And then she gets me again, and we are learning together. A new language, new meanings... we let our bodies take over and learn._

_She moves just slightly, I follow and we roll onto our sides as one, facing each other. And we learn together... lips and tongues and teeth, yes teeth too._

_She tilts her head back and her hands rake through my hair and pull, just a little they pull me forward and I follow. I learn and follow, and now I'm all lips and tongue on her throat, her collarbones and her breasts... all mouth around her nipples, and yes, a thousand times yes, teeth too. And it is such a sweet lesson, such a sweet pain._

_I slide my hand down her backside and take her leg and push, just a little I push and she puts it around my waist. Once again we roll over until I'm on top of her and between her thighs. I slowly scoot down on her, kissing and licking and learning on the way. She might just have whispered 'Oh God', but I'm not sure. Her body is calling out too loud, and I follow._

_I kiss the inside of her bended thigh, from her knee to the apex of her legs... to the source of that intoxicating scent. She starts to tremble and bucks her hips, and when my mouth finds her most sensitive spot she cries out my name and I lose myself in her taste and her heat and in the essence that is Bella... my Bella._

_With every lap and twirl of my tongue I learn. With every move and every moan of her I learn. Until she convulses and I know I'm making her come, and I don't stop until her body tells me to, because this is the sweetest lesson of all...  
_ _.  
_ _.  
_ _._

(BELLA)

I'm falling. Endlessly. My entire self explodes into millions of sparkling fragments and I tumble and fall with a pleasure bordering on pain. And when I am finally put back together again, it is as if I'm drifting, only held in space by Edward's hands... held in time by his incoherent mumbling against my skin between kisses.

Open mouthed kisses on my jaw, my cheek, my temple... it takes a while for me to realize that he is kissing away my tears again. I didn't even notice I was crying. It's just relief, nothing but relief. I am floating on a high, without fear or doubts. Nothing but relief.

I am ready, so ready for this. I grab his shoulders, pushing a little, and he raises his upper body immediately, supporting himself on his elbows. I reach out for the nightstand drawer. I try not to think about the reason why Jake stored condoms in there, not to think about what he suggested trying one night. I'm just really thankful to have them now.

As I get out the small foil wrapping, Edward sits back on his heels and looks at me trustingly. I hold it out to him, hoping he knows how to do this, because I truly have no idea. He picks it from my hand and much to my relief rips it open with his teeth quite expertly, without hesitation.

But then he takes my hand and places the condom in my palm. He wants me to do it. Again, there is that trusting look in his eyes, and though his breathing is still labored, he seems so calm now, almost serene. His hands are drawing soothing circles on my hips as I lean up and carefully sheath his hard on. It's not that difficult, but a bit awkward, just so... technical doing this. I feel silly and barely suppress a giggle, as I bite my lip and say, "There you go."

A brief smile flits over his face and is gone again so quickly, I'm not even sure it was there before it is replaced by... something else. His brows knit together as if he's trying to figure out a complicated equation, and his eyes noticeably grow a darker shade of green, like jade. He lets himself fall forward on his knees and arms and slowly lowers himself down on me.

"Are we doing this?" he whispers, and there's something in his eyes that makes it hard to speak. So I just reach down between us and guide him. He exhales through pursed lips and his hips push forward, just an inch, but I can feel him and I know I never ever wanted anything this much in my entire life.

His breathing hitches, and he says, "Promise to tell me if I hurt you." I wrap my legs around his waist to let him know that I'm ok, to lead him on. But this time it's not enough for him. "Promise me," he insists.

"I promise," I answer between pants. And he sinks down on his elbows, buries his face in the crook of my neck and enters me... slowly... ever so slowly...

_.  
_ _.  
_ _._

(EDWARD)

" _There you go."_

_I have so many memories tagged with those three words from her, layers and layers of comfort and peace and safety. A band aid on a small cut on my knee... there you go. A tenderly hummed song when I was afraid of something... there you go. A hand to hold on to tightly when I dreaded to fall asleep because of the nightmares... there you go._

_When Bella puts the condom on me, in spite of her conspicuous embarrassment, I feel the same comfort and peace and safety. Her fingertips rolling the condom down on my erection, so gently and lovingly... with her face so flushed from the pleasure I have just given her...when she smiles at me and says those words, the stormy sea inside of me calms down and turns into one single wide wave of trust that carries me home. And it is right then that I finally know the name for what is happening to me._

_Love._

_I love her. I always did._

_There you go._

_To be inside her is unlike anything I ever imagined. We're going slow; I don't want to hurt her. I know I most likely will hurt her eventually, but I fight the consuming urge to just thrust forward and be one with her. She promised to tell me. Please, I don't want to hurt her. Almost there, almost there..._

_My face is nestled against her neck and she holds me tight, one hand on my back, the other in my hair, stroking, soothing, assuring. Does she see feel know that I love her? She has to, what with my body speaking my love so loudly. Another inch... God, I need to move, I love her so much. But I can't, I have to go slow. And then I feel something, a barrier... this is it. Please, I don't want to hurt her... I freeze – a trembling, panting mess above her. I don't know what to do._

_She tips her head back and cups my face with both hands. She wants me to look at her. And so I do. I look at her and I almost sob because she is so beautiful and she is Bella and there's something inside my chest on the brink; ready to erupt and tear me apart._

_She kisses me on the lips, once, twice, and I feel her heels dig into my back, pressing down._ _"I_ _get you," she says,_ _"I_ _feel the same. Don't stop, my love, you won't hurt me. Don't keep your body from talking to me."_

_She takes my right hand, interlacing our fingers and holds it to her heart. Her legs around me tighten and she presses down, relentlessly she presses down, and I ease into her to the hilt._

" _There you go," she whispers._

_And I am home for good.  
_


	2. Chapter 2

** **

(BELLA)

He is so beautiful.

I don't know how long I've been sitting here, just watching him breathe. There's something soothing about the gentle rise and fall of his chest under the blankets. If it weren't for that, I wouldn't even know he's breathing at all. There's no sound, and he's lying perfectly still. If I squint my eyes though, I can see dust particles dancing in that single sun-beam that falls on his face through a gap in the window curtains, and the turbulence caused each time he exhales.

He looks so peaceful in his slumber. And so, so beautiful...

I am in an altered state of reality right now, I know that. I can't believe it really happened; it sounds kind of surreal: Bella Swan, 25, divorced, finally lost her virginity. My body is still humming, vibrating from the reverberation of the love-making we shared. Like I can still feel him inside of me, or his hands on my skin, or his mouth... the sweep of his soft lips almost too delicate for a man. Those lips have worshipped my body in ways I didn't know were possible. He made me feel loved. I still feel loved now, what with these frissons of pleasure that keep making my tummy flutter again and again.

The coffee I've poured myself has cooled off long since, yet I still clutch the mug as if to warm my hands on it. I don't dare to budge. I don't know if I could put down the pottery mug without making a noise that would snap me out of my state of bliss. My legs that I've pulled up under my chin are numb, and have been for quite some time. But I don't want this old rocking chair to creak and break the spell.

Everything is so quiet. The kitchen window is open, but apart from the occasional tap-tap-tap of an early jogger, there's not much traffic here at this hour on a Sunday morning. The coffee shop in the basement won't open before eleven a.m. All I can hear is the distant rushing of the trees outside, and even the occasional soft sighs I am unable to hold in seem unnaturally loud in my peaceful bubble. And a soap bubble it is... the dancing dust in the sunlight, the butterflies in my stomach, the feeling that for once everything is like it should be. But I want this moment to last as long as possible. It will pass soon enough, right? So I don't move.

It's been quite a feat to get out of bed and into this chair at all. It took me five attempts to escape Edward who clung to me for dear life in his sleep. He didn't wake up though, just tightened his arms around me every time I stirred. He was so very tired. No matter how hard he fought his drowsiness after... after what we had done, his eyes kept falling shut.

Apparently he'd been up all night before he came knocking at my door this morning... practicing saying my name. How awesome that he is speaking! And he is doing so great, I could easily forget about his disorder at all. He is not the boy I used to call 'Little Green' any more; he's grown into a man I hardly recognize. And yet he's not a stranger, rather someone I've known all my life. So familiar, so at home with him, as though he'd never left. I still can read him, and he gets me by the same token. It's unbelievable.

I know he loved me when he was a kid. And I think I loved him, too. Or maybe I just loved the way his conspicuous attachment for me made me feel chosen and special. Maybe it just flattered my teenage vanity. God... maybe what has happened between us this morning hasn't been anything more than just balm for my wounded vanity again. What have I done? Have I taken advantage of him? I don't know. I might even have done damage to his emotional condition. An uncomfortable chain of thoughts, and a lot to process. But not yet... not now...

Because now Edward is peacefully resting in my bed as if he belonged there. As if he belonged with  _me_. Picture-perfect. I know it's an illusion, but I haven't felt this way in years - being with someone, being loved - and I just want to relish this feeling a little longer. I want to believe that he somehow preserved his love for me during the years of his absence, if only because one of the most striking qualities of his extraordinary mind is that stubborn persistence. I smile to myself at this thought.

It's not like the voice of reason has left me along with the loss of my virginity. I know that once he wakes up there won't be a casual 'Good morning, darling' and 'what's for breakfast?' We're not a couple. There's nothing normal about this situation, and it scares me shitless. I just hope he'll be ok when he wakes up. I feel accountable for him. He is so young, and so damn vulnerable. And he is so beautiful it almost hurts. My Little Green.

The sound of an approaching car outside kicks me out of my musings. It stops right in front of the house with the engine running, and when I hear its door slam shut I almost drop the mug. I internally laugh about myself for being so jumpy. Just a sign that there's life outside the confines of my apartment, and I feel like I got caught with my hand in the cookie jar? The thought is quite amusing. Until I recognize the unmistakable laughter of Esme Cullen, that is.

Fuck!

I am on my feet in a split-second, not giving a second thought neither to the outraged squeaking of the now empty and vehemently swinging rocking chair, nor to the painful protest of my numb legs almost giving way under me as I dart to the kitchen window. I make it just in time to see Esme pick up a picnic basket of sorts and walk up the steps to the front door.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

Oh God, this is bad. I am in trouble. I haven't thought of the Cullens at all. If Esme finds Edward's apartment deserted, what will she think? She'll probably freak out, send out a search party. What if she comes here? Should I wake him? Oh God... she'll hate me! I won't ever be able to explain...  _this_!

Breathe, Bella! And think, dammit!

How much time? A few minutes, at least. She needs to go upstairs, and she will ring the door-bell a few times. Or does she have a key? In each case, I should put some clothes on, right? Damage control!

I hurry back into my bedroom where Edward is still sound asleep. In a snap decision I snatch my jeans and t-shirt, leave the room and close the door behind me. I will deal with Esme alone. Though I don't know what to say to her if she comes here.  _IF_  she comes! Oh God, she will pull the landlord card and kick me out of here. No, she will kill me!

I am close to a panic attack as I hastily dress myself. At least, I won't die naked. With shaking hands, I lamely smooth down my hair. When I hear footsteps descending in the stairway, I tip-toe to the door and spy through the spy hole. Esme has made it back down to my floor; now she's standing there, apparently typing a text message into her cell phone, a concerned look on her face. Maybe she will just leave? Please, let her just leave! I hold my breath...

It seems like an eternity until she finally snaps her phone shut and tucks it away. After a few more seconds of pondering, she straightens her shoulders and, to my utmost relief, eventually walks out of sight. I close my eyes, lean my forehead against the door and exhale heavily. Got away with it!

I feel a little dizzy with the adrenaline wearing off; my heart is still pounding like crazy. But I know I have to move if I don't want to take any more chances... make Edward get up, talk to him... Esme could still come back. What were we thinking? Christ, this is a mess!

I take a few more deep breaths to steady myself and open my eyes. In a twinge of paranoia I cast one last glance through the spy hole, and it's as much as I can do to not squeal when I see Esme's face right in front of me. I stagger backwards on pure instinct before I can remind myself that there's no way she can see me.

Then she rings the bell.

Once. Twice.

No use procrastinating. Let's get this over with. With my hands shaking, I open the door.

"Esme." I can't find it in me to smile.

"Good morning, Bella. I hate to bother you on a Sunday morning, but I was hoping... you know, Edward and I arranged to have breakfast together, but he is not home, and I was wondering if maybe he... maybe you saw him leave or... did you by any chance talk to him? I am a bit worried; he didn't even leave a note or anything."

She looks at me expectantly while the seconds are ticking by. She's probably started to wonder whether I am suffering a stroke or something when I finally manage to say, "Actually, yes uhm... why don't you come in?"

"Sure, thanks," she says, her face registering bewilderment now. I step aside to give her some space. She maneuvers herself past me and deposits her basket on the floor. With its content covered by a red-checkered cloth, it makes me irritatingly think of Little Red Riding Hood, thus wasting the few precious seconds I have to figure out what to say next. That and the further distraction caused by the delicious smell of warm bread emerging from it. The moment passes, and when Esme asks incredulously whether Edward is  _here_ , I just answer yes.

Cue entrance Edward Cullen, clad in his jeans. Clad in  _nothing_  but his jeans, hanging low on his hips. Bare feet, bare chest, bed hair of the year. And adopted or not, by the way he and Esme are staring at each other wide-eyed you might say there's a family likeness of sorts.

"Edward, darling, what...?"

"Esme." He gives his mother a polite nod.

"I was looking for you," she responds slowly, giving his scarcely covered appearance a once-over. "Have you been here all night?"

Edward shakes his head no, and I wish the ground would open under my feet and swallow me. "It's not what it looks like," I hear myself say. Oh, that's classy! "He just came this morning, and we... ( _did what?)_  we... renewed our friendship, and then he fell asleep a while ago." It's not a lie, right?

But Esme's eyes are still glued to Edward as if she didn't hear me at all. Clearly her son is her only concern right now. She tilts her head, and her flawlessly shaped brows knit together ever so slightly. There's some non-verbal conversation going on, and it makes me even more uncomfortable if that's possible. Just when I think I can't stand the awkward silence anymore, Edward finally decides to contribute to this morning's revelations by filling Esme in on what I so carefully have left out.

"We made love," he declares, and my heart almost stops.

Esme's eyes dart to mine, then back to Edward, and when she opens her mouth to speak I prepare for the worst.

"So..." she says, "have you two had breakfast yet?"


	3. Chapter 3

(EDWARD)

_I wake up to the ring of a bell. I know that bell; I've rung it myself. It's Bella's doorbell. And this is Bella's bed I'm lying in. In a heartbeat it all comes back to me._

_Bella..._

_I fell asleep on Bella._

_My eyes fly open, and my heart starts to race. She's not here. But her smell is. And the memory of this morning starts to flood my mind in an absolute mess of confusion, along with a rush of adrenaline. I try to bring order to the chaos, but I can't. Pictures are flaring up in quick succession, but there is no timeline to them. My mind is jumping back and forth between them, struggling to keep up with the physical sensations coming with them._

_For a minute I can only gasp, unable to move._

_Bella in her bathrobe, its edges parted over her thighs as I kneel in front of her... I thought I'd pass out, but I didn't. She lead me to her bed. And Bella in her kitchen, the coffee maker, the exposed skin of her neck. No, that was before. Before, right. Right?_

_And Bella laughing, was that before or after I thought I'd pass out? Before or after? My stomach is in knots. I can't decide whether it feels good or bad, it just FEELS. And I can't stop thinking, 'before or after, before or after...?' It does matter, right? Or does it not?_

_The bell rings a second time. The sound of it thankfully kicks me out of my mental loop. I bury my face in the pillow. Bella's pillow, Bella's scent... more images come rushing in, more feeling, more Bella. I reach down to wrap my hand around my erection, and I am burning again._

_Bella kneeling before me, naked. Bella on top of me, grinding against me, kissing me. Her tongue in my mouth. Her tongue on my skin. Her legs spread, her sex opened for me beautifully. Her taste. Her face. And her voice, calling me home._

_(there you go...)_

_I'm burning, and I can't hold it in. My hand merely twitches and I spill myself on Bella's sheet._

_For one precious moment, I am taken to a place of perfect peace where all thoughts stop spinning. No need for order, no need for control, no need for things to make sense. No answers are needed, because there are no questions. Light, heat, beauty, zero gravity, love, Bella..._

_I moan my love for her into the pillow; then the moment is over._

_I sit up and toss the blanket aside, instantly sobered by the sight of the mess I just made in Bella's bed. She will be upset about it, won't she? What was I thinking? I wasn't thinking at all, that's the problem. The mashineries of my mind were out of control, and they still are. So irritating, so wonderful._

_I grab the next best thing, which happens to be my t-shirt, and rub at the staint on the sheet. I can hear Esme's voice; she's here. She's asking for me. I forgot about the breakfast. She'll be upset, too. How could I forget about the breakfast? I never forget a thing! Maybe I am sick; I feel a little feverish. But it doesn't feel bad, just like being hyper-aware of my body... no, it doesn't feel bad. Not sick then._

_The rubbing is totally futile; this needs to go into the washer. I tear the sheet off of the bed, but I have no idea where to put it, so I just leave it on the ground for now. Also, I should get dressed and meet Esme. And Bella. I quickly put on my underwear and jeans; thankfully my penis is almost soft again. I try real hard to not let my mental Bellascope get the upper hand again. This is just not the time._

_I hear Esme ask whether I am here. Which is weird... where else am I gonna go? Then I realize I not only ruined Bellas bedclothes, but also my shirt. Again I am irritated at myself for my lack of organization, but that doesn't help me further now. No shirt then._

_I leave the bedroom and the first thing I notice is the smell of breakfast-on-a-no-school-day. Breakfast-on-an-Easybella-won't-come-here day. It's Esme's Sunday morning bread. The flashback is gone as fast as it has hit me. I'm not ten years old anymore, and this is not Esme's kitchen. I'm eighteen, I'm at Bella's, and I made love to her. I'm fine._

_Esme addresses me. She seems confused. Of course, she is... I forgot our breakfast appointment. Bella looks uncomfortable, too. What's going on? I'm getting nervous; it's like I missed something important, and I hate missing links. I always assume it's been me, like I have messed up without noticing. I haven't even said anything about the bed sheet yet. I want to hold Bella's hand. I miss her hand._

" _Have you been here all night?"_

_That's Esme. I shake my head no. I wish I had been here all night, but I wasn't. No, I wasn't. I waited until the time was... appropriate. Bella explains it to her, too. But she is not listening; I can see that. She's focused on me, trying to read me._

_Oh, I know that face. I've seen it so many times. When she picked me up after school, or when she waited for me after my logopedics class. It's Esme's were-the-other-kids-nice-to-you face. It's the face that says, 'I'm worried about you', 'I'm ready to kick someone's ass if necessary' or 'You skipped your dose of Zoloft again, did you?'._

_She has no reason to give me that look. I'm fine; she's got to see that. Why won't she stop scrutinizing me? I'm fine, just wonderfully confused but fine. I just fell asleep; Bella told her so. I fell asleep because I was exhausted from all the excitement and anticipation of the night, and all the feeling this morning, and the love. Almost too much feeling to bear, and too much love. But I'm fine. I was spent, that's all. And the love-making...oh, the love-making! Bella didn't tell her about the love-making... of course! That's easy to fix; I just need to tell her. And I really want her to know anyway._

" _We made love."_

_See? I'm fine, no worries..._

_._

_._

_._

_I understand Esme wants us to have breakfast together at Bella's. Us, as in her and Bella and myself. I think she finally understands, and I'm glad that she isn't upset. I'm also glad to be saved from a dilemma; now I won't have to decide whether to leave Bella or to disappoint Esme who clearly was looking forward to spending time with me today. I would have hated both. But if a decision had to be made, I would have stayed here because I really need to touch Bella now, whatever Esme-face this might have earned me._

_And no matter how hungry the smell of her Sunday bread is making me. And I am really hungry._

_I step closer to Bella who hasn't said another word yet, and reach out for her hand. But Esme interrupts me; she picks up her basket and says something about setting the table and asks, "why don't you go and put some more clothes on, so you can eat with us in a little more decent attire?" This is directed to me, and the laundry problem comes back to me instantly._

_I nod my agreement to Esme and take Bella's hand, finally take her hand, and I want to moan because this just feels so right. Although my stomach suddenly is in tight knots all over again, it feels so right. I squeeze her hand lightly, and the image of the wadded bed sheet on Bella's bedroom floor is blown out of my mental focus like tumbleweed. Just like that. All I can do is look down at our joined hands and smile._

" _Edward? Please go and don a shirt, darling. And then come back and join us for breakfast. I promise, we won't go anywhere while you're gone."_

_I let go of Bella, reluctantly so. And I give Esme another nod, with the smile still lingering on my face. I can feel it, not only on my face... it's a whole-body smile. It's warm and sweet, under my skin and everywhere. An Easybella-induced smile._

" _By today, if possible?" Esme scolds, but she's smiling, too._

_I hurry back to the bedroom and collect my scattered socks and footwear. While I put them on, I can hear the women talk in the kitchen, but I can't make out what they're saying. I'm eager to join them, yet I need to go to my apartment to fetch myself a fresh shirt. And to take care of the stained stuff – I will put it into my own washer. I don't want Bella to get upset with me._

_When I enter the kitchen, a small but well-laid breakfast table greets me. The sight of it makes my stomach growl so loudly that Bella and Esme both look up at me, freezing for a second before they burst into giggles. I can't help but smile again; they are... funny!_

_Esme lets go a sigh, "I guess we all know now you're hungry, Edward, but where's your shirt?"_

_I point at the bundle of fabric tugged under my arm."It needs to go into the washer, as well as Bella's bed sheet," I explain and cast a glance at Bella. Her eyes widen, and then she hides her face in her hands. My heart sinks; she is upset, just like I feared, and I'm getting anxious. "Please don't worry, I'll take care of it upstairs; I'll be right back." Gonna fix it, Bella..._

_She's still not taken her hand off of her face. This is worse than I thought. She is really, really upset! Esme reaches out to rub her shoulder but is looking at me, as she says, "You do that, darling. But hurry up, so we can eat eventually, ok?"_

_Suddenly I don't want to go anywhere, not even for a few minutes. The urge to drop everything and pull Bella into my arms is overwhelming. But I know I have to. I need to fix this. I turn on my heels and run._


	4. Chapter 4

(BELLA)

My embarrassment couldn't be any worse if Esme had caught me with my panties around my ankles. Edward just smiles artlessly and disappears through the bedroom door, completely unaffected. I don't know what to say. My cheeks are burning, and there is no way I can look Esme in the face right now. With my eyes cast down, I stammer, "God, Esme, I can't even... I am so -"

"Cut it out, for Christ's sake," she hisses, and I wince. She grabs my elbow and drags me towards the kitchen, whispering into my ear, "Start thinking, Bella! He is in earshot; are you seriously telling me you want him to overhear that you are SORRY about whatever has happened between you two this morning?"

_Oh my God..._

"Of course not, I just -"

"Then don't. Leave it at that. Let's see to breakfast for now, nothing else." She releases my arm and turns towards the table, suddenly chattering away in her normal voice as if nothing has happened, "So... the good news is, the bread is still warm. Did you know I used to make this every Sunday for Edward? He loved it. Relax, Bella. Plates?"

I blink a few times, then I go on autopilot. Plates, right...

So we busy ourselves setting the table, and for a few minutes our conversation just circles around knives and spoons and bread recipes. The familiar procedures around the kitchen help me to calm down, but I know there'll be a heart to heart with Esme eventually, and it's not going to be fun. At least, she doesn't intend to put me to death without a decent last meal. I'm in awe about the amount of delicacies she conjures out of her basket.

Edward enters the kitchen, still wearing a smile and no shirt. A loud growl emanates from the center of his body at the mere sight of Esme's bounty, and I giggle almost hysterically. His smile grows into a full grin; he looks so happy.

_And so damn sexy..._

Even Esme is laughing as she asks him about his shirt, for the umpteenth time it seems.

"It needs to go into the washer, as well as Bella's bed sheet," he answers. And there is this bundle under his arm, and I can't believe this is really happening. He brought my bed sheet because it is _dirty_? Because what we did left its  _marks_  on it? I can't remember whether... I mean, virgins are supposed to bleed, but I don't think I...? My hands fly up to cover my face. I might pass out any moment out of sheer embarrassment. Oh God, what's next? Maybe Edward will unfold the offending piece of laundry, and he and Esme will stoop over it, poking at the stains and discussing the right temperature and dose of washing powder. I wouldn't be surprised...

Esme is patting my shoulder as if to say, 'Hey, shit happens', but this can't be what she's meaning, and her touch isn't comforting at all. Edward is apologizing and he sounds strained. He clearly has no clue what's going on. How could this morning turn from the best moment of my life into something so royally fucked up? Oh, Little Green...

He leaves, together with my bed sheet. I should take my hands off of my face, but I can't move a muscle. Esme squeezes my shoulder. "Bella," she says, and again, "Bella!"

I let my arms fall down, but my eyes are still shut tight. I feel like I should say something, but all I can do is ramble helplessly, "Oh God, Esme, I... I don't know what -"

"Bella, for Heaven's sake, get a grip."

Oh fuck, now she sounds pissed off. My head jerks up and I gape at her as she continues.

"Have you even looked at him? He is like a kid who's just been told by Santa himself that he will indeed get the red bicycle. And believe me, he didn't even beam like that when he actually got the bicycle on Christmas 2004! Honestly, I have no idea yet what to make of this...  _situation_ , but I do know that  _now_  is not the time. You and I, we will talk; I assure you. We need to sort this out, and if you... Bella, you almost are like a daughter to me, but I swear, if you hurt him... if this is just -"

The ring of her cell interrupts her hasty words, and I notice I've been holding my breath all along. I draw in some air and whisper, "I would never do anything to hurt him."

Esme is pinching the bridge of her nose as she waves me off. "Just sit down, Bella, will you?"

And so I do. I drop myself onto a chair at the table and just zip it. Esme fishes her phone out of her pocket, takes a look at the display and sighs. I keep my eyes on my fingers that are knotted together in my lap while Esme starts talking. It's Edward on the phone, that much is clear.

"What is it, darling? - Oh... sure, it's cotton, right? Hot is ok; just turn the dial all the way to the right and press 'Start'. - Ok? We're waiting for you. - You found  _what_?"

She slowly sinks down onto the chair next to me at the head of the table. I can feel her eyes on me, so I raise my head to find her looking at me with this odd mixture of surprise and sympathy. _What the fuck?_

"Ok. If there's really... uhm, if you've found what you're saying you've found, then it's probably a good idea to wash it cold first."

Wash it cold first? What did he find? Wash it cold? Don't you do that when there are blood-stains?  _Oh my God! Seriously?_  And I thought this couldn't get any worse...

Esme is still giving me that weird look as she keeps on talking to Edward, "Is it running? - Good. And have you put on a shirt, honey? - Ok. See you in a bit."

She snaps her phone shut and puts her hand on my shoulder... again. And I notice that I forgot to breathe... again. I draw in a ragged breath. All the acid has left Esme's voice when she says, "I apologize for my outbreak; I'm sorry – I just lost it here for a minute. Edward is coming down, and I want you to relax as much as possible. You think you can do that, Bella? For him?"

I try to erase the visual of my blood-stained sheet from my mind and nod yes. For him. The keyword is 'for him'. I can do that.

"Thank you," Esme whispers, and lets go of my shoulder. There are steps in the hallway; he is here. Esme clears her throat, and just as Edward appears in the kitchen door, she asks in a honeyed voice, "Now that we're all here, how about some coffee?"

"Sure," I say and get up to fetch the coffeepot. Edward is still standing in the doorway, frowning and peering at me as if he's waiting for something. I force a smile onto my face as I sit down again, and the corners of his mouth start to twitch. The very moment he smiles back at me, my stomach twists and I feel my doubtlessly poor grimace turn into a genuine, warm smile. God, he's just irresistible.

"It's all in the washer now," he says, beaming. "I'll get it back to you tomorrow, as good as new."

"Thank you, Edward, that's really... cool. But you didn't have to do that, you know?"

His brows knit together again, and he bites his bottom lip. I remember this look from his childhood days; he always did this when he went through his inward list of possible ways to behave in certain situations. It only lasts a few seconds, then he smiles again and says, "No biggie!"

Both Esme and I laugh, and finally there's a little less tension in the room. Edward just stands there, running his fingers through his hair and grinning. He is utterly adorable, and God help me, I have a huge crush on this grown-up Little Green. My cheeks get all hot and I know I'm blushing hard. Oh my...

"Edward, sit down and eat something; you must be starving," Esme giggles. Her uplifting demeanor is pretty convincing; I must give her that. Edward takes a hesitant step towards the table and stops in his tracks. And there he stills, obviously waiting for... something. Esme looks up at him. "Something wrong, darling?"

He licks his lips, gestures towards Esme and says, "Can I sit there, please?"

.

.

.

(EDWARD)

_It is such a small table. It's just a table for two; I can see that. One end rests against the wall, and the chairs on each side are matching whereas the one Esme is sitting on is a wooden folding chair. That chair wasn't here this morning when Bella was making coffee in her white bathrobe... with the nape of her neck exposed for me so I could inhale her smell... with her collar slightly open so I could see the swell of her creamy breasts._

_No, that chair wasn't there this morning. A table for two, such a small table. I could easily reach across it to touch Bella's hand or her face. But that doesn't seem right. I want to sit at the head of this small table for two. So I'd be next to Bella and could touch her more comfortably. Maybe I could touch her leg, or hold her hand all the time. Who used to sit on the free chair anyway? On the chair across from Bella? Her husband? Who was the other one at this table for two? I don't want to think about who used to sit there. And I don't want to sit there myself now._

" _Why would you rather sit here than there?" Esme asks. "Don't be silly and have a seat."_

_She doesn't understand. I can't sit that far from Bella, and I can't sit in this chair. "I can't."_

" _Of course you can!"_

_Esme is irritated, but she's also uncertain about something. Just like Bella. They're hiding something from me. Oh yes, same old, same old... don't upset Edward, right? ...the fuck? I can't deal with that now. I want... I need Bella. Now._

" _Yes, I can. But I don't want to." Better?_

_A long sigh. An Esme-sigh. She's defeated. I'm almost there. She puts her coffee mug down and sighs a second time, "Why do you have to be difficult right now, hm?"_

" _I'm not being difficult; I just want to switch chairs with you."_

_She's giving me that stern look, staring at me. I stare back at her. Two can play that game. I lift one brow, and her face softens noticeably. The brow always works. I'm almost there._

" _Please," I say, and then I close in for the kill, "Mom?" And her facial features become liquid. That's it. She gets up and comes to me. She lays her hand on my cheek, and her eyes are a little moist. That's it._

" _Good Lord," she mumbles, trying to sound aloof, "if your life depends on it..."_

" _Thank you," I say and slip away from under her hand to quickly take my seat. Esme sits down across from Bella, shaking her head and smiling to herself. She likes it when I call her 'Mom'. I don't do it often..._

_I remember it was Easybella who told me years ago that everyone has a secret name, a name that bears a special meaning and touches their hearts in a special way. A powerful name that, if it was spoken in the right moment, could make people open their hearts and minds. It could make them strong or weak, happy or sad, depending on the circumstances and on who called them by their secret name._

_Easybella had told me that Esme's secret name was 'Mom', and that I should use that name whenever I needed her to do something for me that she didn't really want to do. It was like a magic trick. She also told me not to overdo it, or else the trick would wear out. I used that name only few and far between, and it worked every time. Of course it did; Easybella wouldn't lie to me._

_Only the last time I called Esme by her secret name, it fell short... that was when they brought me away from here, away from Easybella. I begged and cried; I remember making noises like a wounded animal, the only intelligible words I repeated over and over were 'No' and 'Mom'. 'No' and 'Mom' over and over again. It didn't work that time. I guess I had overdone it then, just like Bella had warned me not to. And so I had broken the spell._

_That fragility was the magic of the secret names. You have to use them wisely. Mine was Little Green; there was only one person who called me that, and it always had made me strong and happy. Always. I just had forgotten about it..._

_But look at Esme now! I called her by her name, and she almost melted. She's glowing. Oh, she likes it when I call her 'Mom'. And I have my seat near Bella. I reach over to her and she takes my hand, and this is good. Everything's good now. I don't want to let go of her. Ever. This is good._

_Esme gives another sigh. Esme's signature sigh, one of the good kind. It's her 'oh you sweet boy' sigh. She reaches out to me and I take her hand, too. And this is good. This is about love, isn't it? I never really got the concept of her love for me, although she never got tired of telling me that she loved me. But now there's something forming inside my mind, a certain pattern I can't really wrap my brain around right now because I'm still overwhelmed with the feeling... all this feeling, too much excitement. But as I'm sitting here, holding the hands of the two most important women in my life, I get a glimpse of something huge, and it almost takes my breath away._

_Is this what Esme had felt for me all the time? Did she love me like that, although I never really mirrored it, or even acknowledged it? Is this love? A wave of sadness washes over me and I swallow hard. And then it fades away, and I suck in a deep breath._

_Esme smiles at me, and whispers, "You don't know what you're doing to me, you sweet boy."_

_I squeeze her hand and I wish I could tell her... for the first time I really wish I could tell her that I love her, too. In my own way, which might not be good enough. It's complicated and I have trouble concentrating, so I say the next best thing that comes to my mind._

" _I know more than you think; I just can't focus right now."_

_She lets go of me, patting my hand a few times, and answers, "That's fine, darling, don't worry. Everything will be easier once you'll have some of my Sunday bread and home made jelly in your tummy, don't you think?"_

_Oh damn, I'm hungry. Bella slips her hand from my grip and takes the coffeepot. She stops right above my mug, looking at me in a silent question. "Yes please," I say and lay my hand on her knee under the table. She blushes as she pours me the coffee, and seeing that, I get a hard-on along with a deliciously hot knot in my stomach. I could sit here and do this forever, watching my Bella blush while I feel her skin under my palm, soft skin under my palm._

_Yes. Fuck, yes. A thousand times yes._

* * *

 


	5. Chapter 5

(EDWARD)

Esme is talking about jelly recipes while Bella is keeping her eyes trained on her, nodding and throwing in a question or comment every once in a while. I don't care. I'd listened to Esme explaining her recipes so many times when I was a child, I could make an A-1 raspberry jelly with my eyes closed. So I mute the conversation to a point where words lose their shape and everything melds into a smooth stream of murmuring without meaning. It's very comfortable. Peaceful.

I'm watching Bella. Her cheeks are still a little rosy, and tiny pink spots have appeared on her throat and her chest. I like them; I want to touch every single one. She's fiddling with her napkin, and her knee is nervously bobbing up and down under the table.

I had to stop touching Bella at some point; eating with only one hand was just too awkward. But now I put my hand back on her leg, and it stills under my palm. For a split-second, her eyes flicker into my direction, and the napkin drops from her fingers. Then she's back to smiling and nodding at Esme again. She reminds me of the cab driver who drove us here from the airport yesterday; she's making quite an effort to give Esme's speech her undivided attention... to not be rude to her. Esme has that effect on people.

I move my hand ever so slowly upwards and slide my index finger under the rolled up hem of her cutoff jeans, four inches above her knee. This is exciting... which is weird because there's so much skin exposed anyway... ankles, calves, knees, a bit of her thigh. But touching her underneath the fabric makes my heart beat faster and my breath hitch.

I let my fingertip draw small circles where her skin is covered, and she blushes again... harder and a deeper shade of pink this time, so beautiful. I need to close my eyes for a second because there's that tingling heat again in my stomach and further down, and I can feel that she's... oh, she's getting goosebumps... oh!

The world shrinks up to that tiny area of skin right there under my fingertip. I'm growing almost painfully hard in my pants as I involuntarily recall what she looks like down there without clothes. I've seen and touched and kissed her thighs and the breathtaking beauty between them just this morning. And yet I want to dive under the table to see those little pimples I can feel under my fingers. I want to get down on my knees right now to see the delicate hair stand up on her skin.

And I want to show her how much I am aching for her touch. I want to take her hand and put it where I'm throbbing for her... God, how I crave the sensation of her hands on me... and her mouth, oh her mouth...

Esme's phone buzzes, and Bella literally jumps in her chair. I pull my hand back on reflex; the connection breaks and I'm slowly resurfacing out of my rapture, while things around me seem to move twice as fast as they should. There's a chair scraping over the floor, and Esme excuses herself. It's a text message from Carlisle and she wants to call him back. Then she's out of the room, and I am alone with Bella.

For the first time since we have gathered in her kitchen, she is looking at me. I'm still in a daze, but I can see she's not ok. Why would that be? Was it too much, the touching? Probably yes... not appropriate.

"Bella?"

"Shhhh..." She raises her hands to shut me up. She freezes in the middle of the movement, with her hands hovering over the table and her eyes wide open. She's listening, trying to catch scraps of what Esme is saying in the hallway. But Esme is kind of stage-whispering; it's impossible to make out anything. Bella keeps looking at me like a deer in the headlights. Her irises fly back and forth between my own eyes, and her hands that are still hanging mid-air are shaking. She's not ok.

I take her hands and move them down until our elbows rest on the table, and she seems to relax a little. I don't know what made her so anxious. "It's just Carlisle," I explain. There's nothing to be anxious about.

"I know," she whispers and starts rubbing my knuckles with her thumbs as if to comfort me. As if I were the one who isn't well. We stay like that for a few minutes... holding hands, holding each other's gaze... while Esme keeps on talking into her phone. Then Bella takes a deep breath, her thumbs stop moving and she asks quietly, "Are you ok?"

I nod my head yes. Of course I am. Yes. I squeeze her hands and raise my brows to give the question back to her. Though I already know the answer. She's not ok.

"You shouldn't have told her, Edward."

What? Why? "About the sex?" I feel a sharp twinge at the realization that she's feeling bad because of something I did.

"Yes," she answers and leans back in her chair, pulling her hands out of my grip. I instantly feel a little anxious too at the loss of contact. My hands want her back, but she crosses her arms in front of her chest... she wants me to give her some space. It feels like the distance has just increased tenfold.

"This should have stayed between just you and me. You just can't go and tell everybody about it."

Everybody? I know I'm not supposed to tell everybody! "I never would..." Esme is family. If Bella had told me she doesn't want her to know; I wouldn't have said anything. But how am I supposed to know? We haven't had a chance to talk... about what Bella wants... about anything... But maybe I should have been more... considerate?

Esme comes back and apologizes once again. "Sorry for that," she says, waving her cell phone, "this was important. Carlisle said hi to you, Edward. He'll be back tomorrow, and he can't wait to see you. Ok... I'm afraid I have to take my leave now. Will you be all right here?"

Both Bella and I nod in unison. Esme doesn't stop or inhale long enough for us to answer anyway.

"Oh, and please don't mind... I mean, just go on enjoying your breakfast. You can keep everything, if you want, Bella. Or Edward can store the leftovers in his fridge. Whatever. It was a very... interesting morning. We should meet up some time next week and continue our conversation, don't you think?"

Bella swallows and gets up from her chair. "Sure, I'd love that."

Esme waves her off. "Oh, please stay seated; Edward will see me to the door. I'm looking forward to talking to you soon. You two have a nice day, ok? Edward, shall we?"

.

.

.

Esme is leaning against the door frame, her lips pressed together in a tight line. She is plucking at some threads or crumbs or anything only she can see on my shirt. Normally it would drive me crazy, but right now I don't care because she has just unknowingly repeated Bella's words to me. "You shouldn't have told me, Edward."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You meant no harm, and to be perfectly honest, I'm glad you told me. But Bella... she's beyond mortified, I tell you. And the sheet, oh my. You two have a lot to talk about. You know that you need to speak to her, right?"

I know. And I want to. Badly. Tons of shit to fix.

"Are you happy, darling?"

I shrug. Am I? I think so...

"You will find out. I'll see you tomorrow, son," she says, smoothing down invisible wrinkles in the fabric on my chest. "Don't forget about the family dinner, ok? Don't let me send out a search party once again."

She looks a little sad. Is it just because I was with Bella his morning? I know she was looking forward to spending my first day at home with me, just the two of us. She shouldn't be sad though; this is... stupid. I don't want her to leave like this. And there's something nagging at me, seeing her like that. An urgency of sorts that started when I held both her's and Bella's hands in the kitchen, and has been building and building inside of me until now. I can't let her leave like that. I need to -

"What is it, Edward, what's on your mind?"

"I..."

It's getting worse. It's really eating at me. I need to... I need...

"I need to tell you something, Esme."

Man, this shit isn't easy. But she knows that. Her hand on my chest stills and her eyes find mine. She's all attention now, all calmness, all acceptance no matter what I'm going to say. She's just all Esme, and that thing inside me starts nagging even harder, struggling to come out.

"Take your time, honey," she soothes, all calmness. All attention, she notices my impending anxiety. I need to get this out now.

"I want you to know that I like being back... home, you know." This is not it. This isn't quite right yet. It's a little hard to breathe suddenly. Why does this have to be so hard?

"I'm very happy that you're back, too. Really, really happy," she answers. "I love you, Edward, and I missed you terribly."

No wait... I'm not done yet. There's more. I'm so full of something, and I don't know how to name it or where to put it yet. It is as if there's just no proper shelf space inside my mind for this; it doesn't fit anywhere. I just have to get it out now. I just need -

"Breathe, Edward!"

In... out... in... out... "There's more," I merely whisper.

"It's ok; we're in no hurry," she assures me again. "Is it about Bella?"

No. Yes. No.

"No, it's... I just want to thank you for always being..."

...patient? Loving? Giving? Understanding? Caring? Helping? All of it? How to put it? What is it she needs to know? I'm lost.

"...there for me," I manage, and the pressure starts dissipating. "I want you to know I've always been thankful." That's more like it. Better... much better. I can see it in her face. She appreciates what I'm saying.

"I know, Edward," she says, a little shakily, "you don't have to tell me this. And you don't need to thank me. But I know what you mean; I know what you're... feeling. You're making me very happy. You've always made me happy, and I'm so, so proud of you."

There it is again, her pride. And her love. Will I ever truly understand? Maybe there is no concept to it? Maybe it's just like... breathing? But even breathing has its purpose, mechanism and structure... a simple concept, a physical need. But this is more than just a human instinct, even more than just a feeling. You feel hunger and thirst, you feel cold or warm, and there are reasons why you feel those things, and remedies for them.

But how do you feel love? And why?

Why me? Maybe it is a decision? I am not Esme's biological child, so maybe she just decided to love me when she adopted me. And then stuck to her decision, no matter whether I was able to love her back or not. Maybe the 'remedy' for love isn't being loved in return... maybe the remedy for loving someone is just loving someone. What if love needs no remedy, no reward? There would be no concept.

I love Bella. I know I do, with certainty. God, I love her; with everything I am, I love her. I just know it. But there's no concept. I don't even understand how I know this is love. But I do. Would I stop loving her if she didn't love me back? No! Does she even love me back? I don't know. Would I be heartbroken like one of those characters in those romantic novels, if she said no? I don't know. There's no concept yet.

How do you stop loving someone? Is it possible at all? Maybe not. How do you stop the rain from falling? I'm soaked with my love for Bella, head to toe. I'm Love-drenched.

I feel like I'm close to understanding... so close, but I never can get quite to the core of it. It remains out of reach. No concept, no order. Every time I try to really grasp it, it slips through my fingers. It just keeps slipping through my fingers. But I so want to hold on to it, just for one moment...

"Edward? Stay with me, honey! Are you ok?"

I zoned out again. I need to focus.

"Yes, I am."

"Good. Go talk to Bella now. I'll see you tomorrow. Can I have a hug?"

I take her in my arms without further ado. It's easy for me to do so; it's never been a problem with Esme. Not always pleasant, but always easy. Just like the eye contact. I remember one of the caretakers in the institution saying that was the reason why everyone thought I had somehow chosen Esme to be the one to take me home... because of the eye contact. Silly! As if I'd had any choice. Choices were made for me back then. But it's true - I had looked her in the eye from the very beginning. Only her. And then Easybella. Only her and Bella.

Right now I really want to hug Esme, and I hold her a little more tightly than usual. This time, it's pleasant. Very much so. It is totally different though from hugging Bella. It's always been different, but nothing compares to what having my arms around Bella did to me this morning. Nothing!

"Esme?"

"Yeah?"

I still hold her tight, and she smells of soap and safety and just Esme. With my nose in her hair, I ask, "Do you feel anything when we are hugging like this? In your body, I mean?"

"Oh my God," she breathes, and a shiver runs through her form. "Yes, I do, Edward. Of course I feel something."

"What is it you feel?"

"That's not an easy thing to describe, honey."

"Could you just try... anyway?"

"It is warm... a warm feeling in my stomach and everywhere. Sometimes it's tingling. It's not always the same, you know. Sometimes it makes me light-headed with happiness, sometimes it spreads out into my chest or even up to my throat, and it might linger there even after we've stopped hugging. Sometimes I feel like I will tear up any moment... like just now. But whatever I feel when we hug, it is always wonderful."

She has started to sway a little while she was speaking, rocking our embraced bodies from side to side. We keep going like this for a few more seconds; it's very soothing. I feel the last bit of my inner tension dissolve, and I'm really tired all of a sudden. Really, really tired, as if I'd just completed a marathon.

Finally I say, "I like hugging you, too." It's the truth.

With a quiet laugh, she lets go of me. There's a little moisture in her eyes, but she just said she feels like tearing up and that it isn't a bad thing, so I guess it's ok. "I'll see you tomorrow," she repeats, patting my cheek, and turns to leave.

She's almost made it through the front door, when she calls back over her shoulder, "and I know what you did earlier with that 'Mom' trick. Don't think you can fool me, you sneaky monkey..."

.

.

.

"Is she gone?"

Bella is still waiting at the same spot she's been standing in when I left the kitchen a couple of minutes ago. I nod my head yes, and she stops wringing her hands and drops onto the chair again. Her shoulders slump forward; suddenly she looks as tired as I'm feeling.

"Did she say anything... about me?"

"She said we should talk," I answer, closing the distance between us in two strides to kneel down and sit back on my heels in front of her. "And that I shouldn't have told her about the lovemaking." I clasp both of her ankles with my hands and lay my forehead against her knees. "And that you're feeling uncomfortable because I told her."

She gasps, and then her hand is in my hair. "Edward, what are you doing? Would you please ... Jesus, get off of the floor, will you?"

But I can't get up; it's impossible. I'm held in my position as though her body were a magnet, from the very moment I touched her again. It's not like I couldn't move. I do move... a lot. But I simply cannot disengage from where her skin and mine connect.

My hands slide down to cup her heels, and my thumbs carress her ankle bones above the rim of her ballet flats. At the same time I rub my forehead against her knees like a cat. Yes, like a cat. I turn my head and twist my neck, and her legs part without much resistance. Just a little they part, giving me enough space to nuzzle the hollow of her knee, enough to brush my cheek against the inside of her thigh.

"Edward, please... what are you doing?" she repeats breathlessly. And as if her question had unlocked a floodgate inside of me, words suddenly come to me without effort, and I'm talking.

"I'm sorry," I say without taking my lips off her skin, "I should have been more considerate, but I was confused. I woke up in your bed and you weren't there, and then I could hear Esme's voice..."

My hands are moving of their own volition while I'm speaking, stroking her ankles, her calves, the back of her knees.

"Your bed, your pillow... it smelled of you, of us, and all I could think of was what had happened before I fell asleep."

I scoot a little closer to her. My temple is pressed against the inside of her left thigh, inching along the silky warmth of her skin, and the words just keep spilling out of me.

"I didn't mean to, but everything kept replaying in my head over and over... the touching, the kissing, the sight and feel of your naked body... I just couldn't stop it, and I touched myself. I thought of us and stroked myself in your bed; I just couldn't help it..."

A gasp escapes Bella's lips, and her fingers curl around a lock of hair in the nape of my neck. My hands have made it all the way along the outside of her legs to the hem of her jeans and I slide them under the fabric, up to my wrists, and she feels so good. Lifting myself up a little on my knees, I let my hands circle around her legs to stroke the bottom of her thighs.

"I didn't mean to, but I just lost it there and made a mess."

Her breath hitches and I feel her grip on my hair tighten. The stubble on my jaw is making this little scratching noise as it brushes along the denim, and then I gently lay my forehead against the fly of her jeans.

"My semen was on your bed sheet, Bella, and I just wanted..."

"Oh God..." she breathes.

And then it hits me. Her scent... that scent. Without warning, it suddenly blooms around me like the sweetest bouquet ever, and it is as though someone has just cut off the thread of my thoughts with a hot scalpel.

"... I just wanted... I... Bella...!"

With a groan, I bury my face in her lap and inhale her, and there is that searing heat again. I am hard in an instant, an almost angry throbbing in my pants. I can't remember what I was just about to explain to her, except for that I was sorry. But it doesn't matter any more. I'm breathing her in and I know that I'm forgiven.

Her hands are moving frantically in my hair and she squeezes her legs together around me. Her hips jerk up, hardly palpable, but that small movement is calling out to me so loudly. And when I hear my name fall from her lips it is my undoing.

I rise on my knees and let my body take the lead. With one hand in the nape of her neck, I pull her face down to mine and chrash my mouth on hers. Our tongues meet and she moans, and I can feel it everywhere, the sound washing through me like liquid fire. My other hand is fumbling with her belt buckle; I don't want to pull my lips from hers, but I'm growing so impatient. I can't get there soon enough. I break the kiss to deal with the button and zipper. I need to feel her now, feel the silky moisture, taste it... oh God, taste it!

Bella grabs my wrists as if to... help me? … stop me? I can't tell. Her grip is too undetermined, too weak.

"Edward, no..." she whispers, "this isn't right."

Isn't right? Of course, it is. And I cannot stop. I just can't.

"Bella..."

As soon as the zipper is open, I shove my hand down inside her jeans and between her wet lips, and oh God, this is so right. A thousand times yes. How could this not be?

"Bella..."

I lick and nibble at her jaw and her neck, lips and tongue and teeth, while am fondling her inside her panties, and I'm all pants and moans, all want and lust. My head is spinning and I know I'm being a little rough. But she is panting too, and her little hands are clutching my shoulders. This can't be 'not right'. If this isn't right, then...

"... tell me to stop!" I moan against her throat.

But I don't pause to wait for her response. My body is unleashed and acting on its own accord. I lift her off the chair, with my arm around her middle, and start tugging at the waistband of her jeans. Bella makes little whimpering noises, and I raise my head to look at her. She's flushed and breathing heavily through parted lips. And her lips, oh those lips... they are a little swollen but so, so beautiful. Did I kiss her too hard? Did I hurt her?

"Tell me to stop, Bella..."

Her eyes find mine, and they seem to melt. Her scent grows so intoxicatingly strong that I can almost taste her on my tongue, and I barely manage to shove her jeans and panties down mid-thigh, before I have my mouth on her... before I'm all lips and tongue on that precious little spot that makes her writhe and moan with pleasure. I taste her and nothing compares to this. She cries out once and then she whispers 'oh God' over and over as I lap at her juices, and I know I will never get my fill of her. Ever. This can't be wrong.

Her hands that have been clutching at my neck and shoulders reach down to where her pants are stuck around her thighs. I need to take my mouth off of her for one moment, one endless moment, so she can pull them down over her knees and slip out of them. She kicks them aside and spreads her legs, and I'm almost losing it. The aching-burning-throbbing desire inside of me gives a roar that drowns out the last bits of my coherent thinking.

I throw myself at her and scoop her up and lower her to the floor where I hover over her, supporting myself on one arm. I nudge her legs apart and, kneeling between them, hastily pull down my zipper and grab my painfully hard erection. I let myself fall forward on my elbow and bury my face in the crook of her neck. I might just faint with want.

"Bella..." I pant, and I feel like I'm losing my mind.

I know I'm being too rough, too hasty, too needy, and I'm sorry, but I'm unable to stop, unable to slow down. She has slung her arms around my head and her whispered 'oh God... oh God... oh God...' is like a hypnotizing mantra. All nerve endings inside my body are screaming with desire as I position myself at her entrance. I am leaking... twitching... throbbing... I am half senseless and shaking all over. I need to be inside her or die.

"Bella, I want..." I moan and stammer against her skin and I don't really know what it is I want to say. "I... please... oh God, Bella... not gentle... I want... need this..."

Please!

I almost sob when she lifts her legs and puts them around my waist.

"Fuck yes," she moans.

And I thrust forward.


	6. Chapter 6

 

FORKS, JUNE 2004:

"Edward, won't you come with me?" Esme cooed. "We will be back in no time. And you don't have to talk to Daddy Carlisle if you don't want to."

The boy in the backseat of the silver Volvo didn't budge. With his head tilted to one side at an angle that made his ear touch his shoulder, he kept on staring down to where he was rubbing the heel of his hand against his jeans-clad knee in steady circles. He had been like that for like ten minutes, and Esme realized this was just one of those days where he was going to try her patience.

She knew he meant no offense. If he only would speak. If he only could tell her why, for Christ's sake, he didn't want to see Carlisle. Or maybe it was the building? Was he afraid of hospitals? He had no issues with doctors or people in scrubs or anything, as far as she knew. He had endured countless examinations during the adoption process. It just didn't make sense, like so many things about the silent child she'd lost her heart to. She knew so little about him. But she knew one thing for sure: he wouldn't get out of the damn car now. Not a chance in hell.

Esme grabbed the handle of the car door and rose from her crouching position, defeated. She looked back over her shoulder to the entrance of the Forks Community Hospital on the other side of the parking lot, weighing her options.

Theoretically, she didn't have to take the papers Carlisle had asked for to his office herself. She could just jog across the lot, drop them at the reception desk and be back in a minute. But it would still mean leaving Edward all by himself in the car and she felt uneasy about that.

She could use her cell to call the receptionist and ask one of the nurses to come out and fetch the folders. Or she could drive over and park right in the zone reserved for the ambulance. Both of the latter options seemed frivolous and made Esme cringe inwardly. She decided to call her husband instead; he would know what to do.

She was just about to press the speed dial, when a high-pitched voice greeted her. "Mrs. Cullen... hi! Is everything all right? Can I help you?"

Esme turned around, and the sudden rush of relief she felt at the sight of a familiar face made her realize how ridiculously close she'd just been to getting hysterical. The police chief's seventeen-year old daughter seemed to be the answer to her prayers right now.

"Bella... oh hi! And actually, yes, I could use a little help here."

Esme knew the girl well; she was a regular guest at the ER, and Carlisle swore he had never seen someone more accident-prone than Bella Swan. At an age where other female teenagers developed a natural grace that made their fathers shoot warning glances at any male under the age of 20 in close proximity, the only thing Chief Swan had to worry about was his daughter's infamous clumsiness.

"Hey." Esme smiled at her. "Your cast has come off."

With a grin, Bella raised her right arm and wiggled her skinny wrist in the air. "Yes, finally. Let's see how long it takes this time, huh?"

Her fatalistic attitude and self-directed irony was laughable, but Esme instantly started to worry if it was such a good idea to ask Bella to do the small errand. It was a distance of maybe 40 yards to the hospital entrance, and the parking lot was... deceptively flat and even! God knows what could happen to her... Esme quickly decided to better be safe than sorry.

"Bella, have you met my son Edward yet?"

"Oh, I don't think so," the girl replied and stepped closer to the car, an intrigued look on her face.

Of course, she had heard about the recent addition to the Cullen family; the adoption had been the topic of the month. Rumor had it that the boy was somehow disabled. Behind the scenes, assumptions were made that he was deaf-dumb and a bit disfigured. Some said he was mentally handicapped, due to a severe brain damage... or like Bella's class mate Mike Newton used to put it, 'a drooling vegetable'.

Bella bent at the waist and cautiously peeked into the car. The boy on the backseat didn't look anything like she'd expected. Apart from his tense posture, there were no visible signs of any disability. In fact, Bella found him to be extraordinarily pretty. He was slim and pale, but not in an unhealthy way. His skin seemed to be translucent, and there was an almost feminine touch to his facial features with the pouty lips and those long lashes.

"Hi, Edward," Bella said softly. The boy didn't look up and kept rubbing his knee as if he hadn't heard her. Maybe he was indeed deaf?

As if Esme had read her mind, she spoke behind her, "He can hear you; he just has difficulty showing it."

Bella straightened up and turned around. "Oh... ok."

"Look, I need to get these to my husband," Esme said, pointing at the brown manila folders peaking out of her purse. "Could you just wait here for a second until I'm back? Edward refuses to leave the car, and I don't want to force him. He won't try anything; don't worry, I just hate to leave him here all by himself. I'll be right back."

"Sure," Bella answered without hesitation. "I'll keep him company."

"No, Bella... wait!" All of Esme's inner alarm bells went off as she watched the girl move to get into the car to sit next to Edward, unsuspectingly invading his sensitive comfort zone. She wanted to grab her and pull her away from her son, who she knew would throw a fit any second, but her limbs just wouldn't obey.

"Don't, Bella, he cannot bear..." she moaned in despair, but it was too late. When Bella reached out for Edward's still frantically moving hand, Esme closed her eyes in defeat and prepared for the tantrum of the year.

It didn't come. Esme held her breath, waiting for Edward to shriek and lash out, but it didn't come.

Instead she heard Bella giggle quietly and say, "Yeah, you're right, this doesn't look very good anymore, anyway." Esme opened her eyes just in time to see Edward raise his head and look at the chief's daughter, wide-eyed.

Esme gasped in total wonder. He looked at her!

Oblivious to the significance of events or the shock that made Edward's mother stagger on her feet, Bella smiled at the boy next to her. She was mesmerized by the color of his irises, which were an impossible green. Now that she could see the slightly feline slant of his eyes and brows, she found him even more pretty. And though he kept a straight face, the undiluted innocence he radiated touched her heart.

"Just go ahead," she whispered to him, "it will come off easily." And the boy bent down his head and resumed the task he just had commited himself to... Holding Bella's wrist in one hand, he intently scratched at the rims of a stick-on tattoo on the back of her hand, peeling it off her skin piece by piece as if this was the most important business in the world. The fissured picture showed a little red heart with wings. It'd been days since Jacob had placed it there; it looked worn, and Bella didn't mind getting rid of it.

When the last little stripe came off and tumbled to the ground, Esme watched in awe as Edward looked up again, searching for Bella's eyes. The girl giggled once more. "Well done," she said cheerfully. "Thank you, Edward."

As though it was all he needed to hear, Edward cast down his eyes. His body relaxed into the backrest and he slowly tilted his head until it rested against the girl's upper arm. He held onto her wrist with both hands now, his thumbs stroking the spot where Jacob's token of friendship had been. Bella turned her head and smiled at Esme.

"We're fine here, Mrs. Cullen. I'll wait for you."

When Esme returned from the building, where she had dropped the papers at the reception desk and hastily informed the nurse about their destination, the two kids were still peacefully leaning against each other, and Esme was still trying to grasp what just had happened. She couldn't believe Edward tolerated someone else's touch beside her own. And even more, being touched by Bella seemed to calm him. And he made eye contact! Both were things he wouldn't even allow with his adoptive father yet.

Esme knew she shouldn't get her hopes up too soon; this could be nothing. Things were still completely unpredictable for her when it came to Edward's moods and needs. The few attempts she and Carlisle had made to find someone to watch over Edward so that she could leave the house at least for a little while sometimes, had been both futile and nerve-wracking.

So this  _had_  to mean something... Esme's mind worked frantically while her eyes were glued to the miraculous scene before her.

Bella shifted slightly and looked up at the stunned woman, a sheepish smile on her face. She nodded towards her and Edward's joined hands and shrugged awkwardly. "Mrs. Cullen, I think... I don't believe I can get out of the car right now."

'Don't!' Esme thought. Then she took a deep breath.

"Bella, I was just wondering... would you like to make a few dimes from time to time?"

.

.

.

(BELLA)

This is all kinds of wrong, and I know it. Yet, I can't find it in me to stop him. The temptation to just let go and get lost in the desire he awakens in me is overwhelming. He is a natural force, sweeping over my willpower like a tsunami, terrifyingly beautiful, pulling me under, making my thoughts tumble helplessly. And with a moaned 'fuck, yes' I surrender...

He enters me forcefully, pushing both our bodies across the tile floor, and I cry out in pleasure and surprise. Oh God, this is so good! He pulls back and thrusts forward again, moaning and grunting in the crook of my neck. In a futile attempt to somehow ground myself, I grab the leg of a chair standing next to me. I hold on to it and it scrapes across the tiles when Edward's next thrust sends us both gliding along the floor a little further. The screeching sound cuts through my frenzy just long enough to make me realize that we are just having sex without protection, and the thought instantly sobers me to a great degree.

I push against Edward's shoulders to make him get off of me. He is still moving inside me; his moans and pants indicate that he's quickly getting close to completion, and I panic. "Edward, please!" I yell, and push with all I have. He pulls back immediately, and the feeling of emptiness is both relief and sadness.

In total misinterpretation of what I was trying to do by pushing him away, he scoots down on me, kissing and licking a hot, wet path towards the spot between my legs once more. My hands clutch at his hair and I manage to stop him. With his face pressed against my stomach, he suddenly cries out my name and convulses and I feel his cum moistening my knees and thighs in hot spurts.

Then everything comes to a sudden halt as he clings to me and freezes, and our breathing is almost too loud to bear.

"Edward," I whisper.

He sits up abruptly and stares at me in shock. "I hurt you," he states, crestfallen.

I shake my head no, because he didn't. Yet I can hardly stop the tears from welling up. This rollercoaster day is finally taking its toll.

"We didn't use a condom, Edward, and I'm not on birth control. You can't... we can't do this. We can't do this anymore."

"Oh..." His eyes dart to my naked legs, and he gasps. Tentatively, he touches the inside of my thigh, collecting a bit of the moisture on the tip of his index finger. "I'm sorry," he breathes.

This is such a mess. What was I thinking? I need to talk to him; I need to get things straight, but where to start? This is bad. He is so young, he has this... condition, and the worst part of it all, he is Esme Cullen's son! I close my eyes and shake my head. This is such a mess, and I'm so tired.

"What are we supposed to do, Edward?" I murmur, meaning to speak more to myself rather than to him. "I don't know what to do..."

I hear Edward shift and open my eyes. He is on his feet, stepping out of his pants and stripping off his shirt. Before I can ask what this is about, he has scooped me up and carried me into the bathroom where he lowers me down to sit on the closed toilet lid. Kneeling before me, he starts pulling at the hem of my t-shirt. I am too emotionally exhausted right now to even help him or to bristle or whatever... I simply don't care. I let him handle me like I was ragdoll, and in no time I am naked and limply leaning against his chest. Holding me in one arm, he reaches over to the tub and turns on the water faucet.

"Edward," I protest weakly, "stop it. Do you want me to take a bath now?"

He shakes his head no. "You can't," he says, testing the temperature with his hand in the water jet. "No bath! My... they... they can swim, you know? No bath..."

He rises and pulls me up with him. Holding my hand, he steps into the bathtub and motions for me to follow. I have lost any will of my own at this point and just do what he wants. Once we're both in the tub, he kneels down again, takes the shower head and starts rinsing my body from the waist down. I just stand there, bracing myself against the tiles with one hand, and watch him.

"I'm really sorry, Bella," he says without averting his eyes from his task. I don't know what to answer. I'm sorry, too. But being sorry doesn't get us anywhere. He doesn't seem to expect any answer anyway.

His free hand is stroking my skin in slow, downward movements. After a while he puts the shower head back into its holder, spreads some soap in his palms and starts lathering my lower torso and legs with his hands. Then he rinses me again, stroking me in the process like he did before. The warm water and his caresses are soothing, and I feel ridiculously grateful and cared for, despite the oddity of the situation. I feel like I am the younger one.

Finally he fetches a towel and carefully rubs me dry. He doesn't falter in doing so, nor does he look up at all when he says, "I love you, Bella." His sudden declaration makes me dizzy but doesn't quite seem to reach my brain.

When I'm all dry, Edward helps me out of the tub, drapes a fresh towel around me and sitting down on the toilet lid, pulls me onto his lap. I cuddle against his chest, wrapped in his arms and in terrycloth like a burrito, and he lays his cheek on the top of my head and starts rocking me gently.

"We need to talk, Edward."

"I know. I'm so sorry."

"And you need to stop apologizing."

"Ok."

With that, we both fall silent again. It is really hard to remember what we're supposed to talk about when I'm so warm and comfortable in Edward's embrace. But I need to pull myself together. Where to start... where to start...? I'm at a loss. But unexpectedly, Edward gives me a cue.

"I am so confused," he says.

Of course, he is. He needs to understand that physical attraction or raging hormones must not be confused with love. I am a puzzle piece from his childhood, a pleasant memory, which makes everything even more complicated emotionally. Hells, I'm very much confused myself.

"I know you're confused. I'm not quite sure what has happened myself yet. And I don't know what to say right now. But you can ask me anything, you know... if you have any questions?"

He keeps on rocking me for a few moments in silence. Then he says, "I'm still sorry."

I sigh. "Will you ever stop apologizing to me?"

"Yes," he answers without the slightest hint of humor, "once I'll stop messing things up, I will stop being sorry."

I can't help but chuckle. "Well, that figures, Mr. Spock!"

"And yes, I have questions," he adds, still totally earnest.

"Ok." Here goes!

"Bella, I would like to know... do you love me back?"


	7. Chapter 7

(BELLA)

My heart skips a beat. Or two. And then it resumes its work at a frantic pace.

_Oh my God, seriously?_

He keeps on rocking me gently as if he'd just asked me what time it is or something likewise insignificant, while I am trying to remember how to breathe.

"I think that's a very complex question," I finally manage. Uh, that didn't sound right.

He remains silent, obviously waiting for me to elaborate. But I really don't know how. I feel like I am dismantling a complicated bomb right now. One false move, and...

Oh yes, and it was me who armed it in the first place, right?

"Bella... it's a yes or no question," he says quietly. His breath is hot in my hair.

"I know, but that doesn't make it a simple question. It depends on the definition, doesn't it? I mean, love can have so many different meanings. I care for you, very much. I always did, Edward, you know that. And now there is this strong... sexual attraction between us, which is confusing. I mean... it is wonderful! But it is also very confusing. And I just don't know..."

_God, I'm rambling!_

"It's really not that simple, Edward."

The silence that follows seems to drag on forever. He rubs my shoulder as if to comfort me, as if to tell me that this is ok and sighs.

"That is a 'no' then," he states matter-of-factly.

My heartbeat hitches. I didn't exactly say no, did I? I wish I could see his face now, just to make sure he's not going to break down or something. But I don't dare to move. He's still holding me so tight, cradling me.

"That's not what I mean. I didn't say no." I'm such a coward...

"Yes, you did."

"Why would you think that I -"

"Because you would know," he cuts in. "If your heart and mind work anything like mine – and I guess the differences aren't that big – then you would just know."

_Oh God..._

"But it's ok," he adds calmly. "It doesn't matter."

It doesn't matter? How can it not matter? I am surprised at how much it stings to hear him say that. I should be relieved that he takes it so well, but I'm not. I realize, I selfishly want it to matter.

"Why is that?" I whisper.

"Because it doesn't change anything. I was wondering if I'd love you less if you'd say no, but I don't. I still love you."

The rocking stops and finally his hold on me gives way. I turn around in his lap and look at him. He is leaning back with closed eyes under furrowed brows, and his breathing is a little labored. He doesn't look good.

"Edward, you're quite white around your mouth. Are you not well?"

"I feel a little sick suddenly..." he moans.

I jump off of his lap and almost stumble over my own feet, still wrapped up in that big towel. "Do you think you need to... are you going to vomit?" I ask, alarmed. Kneeling in front of him, I take both his hands. He shakes his head no, but he's deathly pale now.

"Put your head between your knees," I suggest, and he does. I stroke his hair for a while, until his shallow breathing becomes even again.

"Better?"

"Yes." He lifts his head and resting his elbows on his knees, roughly rubs his face in his palms. When he looks at me again, something has changed. I can't quite put my finger on it at first. But something seems off...

"I was wrong, I think," he whispers. "I didn't know until just now, but it does matter. I want you to love me, and it... scares me that you don't."

"Oh, Edward..."

"It's still ok. If you don't send me away, I think... if I still can be with you, it'll be ok."

_Jesus..._

"Of course, I won't send you away! I care for you, so very much, and I'll be always there for you."

And it's true; I will be there for him, no matter what. I want to be with him. I realize he has always been in my in my heart and soul somehow, and I can't believe he's been back in my life for just one day now. I feel him in my blood like a strong drug, coursing through my system. How could I ever send him away?

"Ok," he says again. And suddenly I see the difference. I see what it is that has changed, and it almost breaks my heart. He doesn't look me in the eye anymore!

From the moment he has lifted his head from between his knees, his eyes have been somewhat fixed on a place next to my face, above my left shoulder. I can see him struggle... his irises flicker to my eyes, but it doesn't last. In a split-second they're back, staring at that invisible point again. He's good at that; a less attentive person would have thought he'd be facing them. But I feel the loss of something precious tearing at my heart. He's never 'not' looked at me like that. This is so wrong!

I move to take him in my arms, but he pushes me away, turns around and drops onto his knees. The toilet lid flips open, he bends over, and I can only sit there and rub his back as he retches and dry-heaves. There's nothing really coming up; he doesn't puke, just keeps on choking for a while, until he finally stops and his forehead sinks onto his crossed arms on the toilet seat.

I stroke his hair and the nape of his neck. He is breathing heavily, with his shoulders heaving, and it almost sounds like sobs. I did this to him. I want to cry... I want to tell him I'm sorry, but I have no words.

"Edward..."

"It hurts," he mumbles into his arms. I can hardly understand him. "I didn't know it would be like that, but it hurts like hell. And I'm still scared. And I still love you."

My throat tightens; I can't hold it in anymore. This is killing me.

He straightens himself and a strangled sound escapes him. He still doesn't look at me, not really, so he doesn't see the tears that are running down my cheeks. With his gaze unsteadily circling that damn spot two inches away from my eyes, his lips move but I can barely hear the words as he says, "Please don't leave me."

I can't bear it anymore and throw myself at him and sling my arms around his shoulders.

"I won't. Ever."

And I mean it.

Edward takes a deep breath, and I feel him shudder in my arms.

"Ok. I have more questions," he says.


	8. Chapter 8

(EDWARD)

It hurts so bad I can hardly breathe. And there is this  _thing_  in my mind... it is whispering to me, tempting, demanding, promising even. It doesn't have a solid shape; it is wafting and drifting apart and once it has put itself together again, it looks like a capsule. But I know it is more like a casket. A ravenous thing that will swallow the love and the pain all together and drag it down and out of reach and into oblivion if I let it. A promise of peace. So easy... it would be so easy... and final.

I'm keeping the  _thing_  in balance. An oily-shining thing it is, a brand-new capsule from down there, pitch black both inside and out. Pitch black like the place deep down inside of me where it came from.  _That_  place... no trespassing. It crawled up from the bottom of my mind when the hurt set in and I made it stop mid-rise and I now I'm holding it there. The  _thing_  is hungry. It's making me sick.

The  _thing_  is hissing and whispering like a demon. 'Give up,' it says. 'Give her up; she's not worth the hurt... you can only take so much, and you know it... give her up, give her to me... I'll make it better... you're not carved out for this... let go... your mind is too weak, too fragile... for the sake of your sanity, give it to me... love is pain... I'll make it all go away... you'll be safe... don't fight me... I can help... give up...'

I want it to shut up, so I can listen to my own thoughts instead. Which is silly, because I know those are my own thoughts, too. They're just not what I want to think.

I'm undecided. It is an un-nerving condition, being undecided. I'm keeping that thing in balance, within reach, just in case... She just promised she won't send me away, and I think she means it, but just in case... You never know, right? They had send me away once and I don't even know if she missed me. Did she ask for me while I was gone? You never know... I need this thing.

I raise my head to look at Bella, but I can't hold her eyes and another rush of nausea makes me groan. I wasn't prepared for this, not prepared. Nothing could have possibly prepared me for this. For the power she has over me, the things she can do to me. Maybe I should have known, but I know nothing. So many questions...

I need to calm down. I need to breathe. I need her eyes but I cannot find them. I want her eyes back. She's already half lost to me; can't she see that? I want her back. I need to tell her to come back right now. Right. Now.

"Please don't leave me."

I feel so sick and weak, even my voice doesn't work. Did she hear me? Should I try again? It is like one of those nightmares when it is a matter of life and death that you speak, and you open your mouth and you try so hard, but nothing comes out until it is too late.

She takes me in her arms as if she just got me, as if she knows, and oh... maybe she does! She says she won't leave me, and that thing inside me is raging. Maybe she means it. What if she doesn't? What if she does? I'm scared and undecided, but that's the point. Being undecided is the beginning of insanity. I need to make a decision. Like Esme did when she took me home. Knowing I might never love her back, knowing how damaged I am, knowing I would bring her pain and trouble... she decided to love me nonetheless. That's what she did, right?

Knowing that I have to decide, I decide easily. I choose the hurt. Loving Bella is worth bearing it. I realize that not loving Bella is just no option. If she doesn't leave me, like she promised, it will be worth all the pain in the world. And even if she'd leave, I'd still be loving her.

The  _thing_  wails and screeches, as I force it away with all I have. My body is shaking with the effort my mind makes to let go of its false promises. And then...

It.

Just.

Stops.

And the  _thing_  is gone.

I'm still scared. And I still love her. I'm scared  _because_  I love her. But I've decided.

"Ok," I say, as if that's all there is to know. But I know nothing. And the not-knowing is deafeningly loud in my head. "I have more questions."

…  _why does it hurt did you love your husband where is he now did you send him away were you sad when they took me away did you miss me do you love someone else now did I hurt you there in the kitchen do you notice I cannot look at you do you know why can you help me understand are you afraid do you think I'm being difficult do you want me to try harder do I embarrass you are you sad that you don't love me how come I still think you do how do you care for me will you let me make love to you again...?_

So many more...

.

.

.

FORKS, JULY 2004:

"I'm so glad you're here," Esme stage-whispered as she ushered the girl in and closed the front door behind her. "Are you nervous? You don't need to be... ah, look who's talking. I'm nervous as hell." She smiled wryly at her guest.

After introducing eight different nannies to Edward, each of them highly-qualified and trained to work with special kids like him, Isabella Swan, high school junior, underage, underweight and so uncoordinated that she would probably kill herself by accident before she reached legal age, was the best candidate for the job. Well, she was the only candidate. Edward had made sure she was.

"I'm not nervous at all, Mrs. Cullen."

"Oh good..." Esme was actually relieved. Edward would probably notice if Bella was uncomfortable in any way and get anxious. He had given her his special version of the stink-eye all morning because she'd been so excited. "This is just a test today anyway," she continued. "You two had a great connection this once in the parking lot but I just want to make sure it'll be here to stay, ok?"

"Ok." Bella nodded earnestly.

"Just don't be upset if it's gone, Bella. You never know with Edward."

"I understand, Mrs. Cullen."

"Well, then... he doesn't speak, but he is very intelligent and understands everything, so it is important to speak to him even though he doesn't answer. Just act normal. But oh... I think you should not try to touch him this time. Maybe better wait until he -"

"Darling, you're making the girl nervous," a male voice interrupted Esme's instructions, and Bella was actually grateful to be saved by Dr. Carlisle Cullen. She had heard everything before; Esme had been very thorough the last time. Plus, Bella had a little crush on the good doctor who was extraordinarily handsome and charming. However, it wasn't true that she deliberately tried to injure herself on a regular basis just to get stitched together by his gentle hands, like her best friend Angela used to tease her. Bella Swan wasn't that crazy.

"Hi, Dr. Cullen," she greeted him cheerfully.

"Isabella," Carlisle smiled at her warmly. "How's your wrist?"

"As good as new."

"Glad to hear that. I really hope you're not planning on shedding any blood in our household, especially not your own or Edward's." The stern look that replaced his smile caught Bella off-guard and she opened and shut her mouth twice in an attempt to phrase a proper answer, before Carlisle suddenly smirked again. "I'm kidding, Isabella, relax. I'm really glad you're here. Thank you for coming."

"Oh...," Bella clutched her heart and giggled nervously, "thank God. I'm glad to be here, too."

"So this is the big moment, hm?" Carlise said and exhaled a long breath. He laid one arm around his wife and gently pulled her close. "Actually, Esme and I had agreed not give too many instructions. I assume you know we tried to introduce several nannies to Edward?"

When Bella nodded, it was Esme who continued, "Well, we really don't know why he was able to connect to you so easily, but we have a theory, sort of." She looked at her husband who gave her waist a little encouraging squeeze. Then she said, "Bella, something very special we cannot explain happened between you and Edward. But we also think it might have helped that neither of you were expecting anything, you know?"

"And that you, my dear, weren't expecting anything either," Carlisle reminded his wife. Then he turned towards Bella again. "We both believe Edward is capable of sensing our expectations, hopes, disappointment... and that's stressing him out. With each new try, we prepared the hell out of both the nanny and Edward to make sure their first meeting would go smoothly, but well.. I think we just put too much pressure on it. Maybe he doesn't need an expert for special kids; maybe he just needs a friend."

Carlisle paused to let his words sink in. He knew that, despite her young age and still childlike exterior, Isabella Swan was a very mature and responsible person, and that she would understand the significance of what he told her. "You are the only person, apart from my wife, who Edward ever tolerated touching him."

"Really? Just you and Mrs. Cullen but no one else... and now me?" Bella asked, incredulously wondering what could be so special about her.

"No, Isabella," Carlisle corrected, and a sad smile briefly crossed his face. "Just his mom, and now you. I haven't had that privilege yet."

"I'm sorry, Dr. Cullen," the girl whispered, really grasping the weight of what he told her for the first time.

"When you and he met, you both were completely unprepared, Isabella. No pressure, no expectations. He didn't even know you'd be there. We decided to keep it that way."

"You didn't tell him I'd come here today?"

"No," Esme confirmed. "As far as Edward is concerned, you're a surprise visitor. He is outside on the patio, and if you don't mind, we'd like for you to just go to him and say hi, and whatever will happen will happen. We'll be just watching from a distance. We'll be with you in a heartbeat if anything should go wrong, of course."

Bella looked from Esme's eyes to Carlisle's and back. She couldn't quite understand their worries, as she remembered the boy had been nothing but adorable and sweet like a lamb when she met him. But she could see suppressed hope and anxiety in both their faces, and for the first time in her life she felt significant. Dr. and Mrs. Cullen trusted her to be the one – and the only one at that - who could make their son's life better, and she was eager to prove she was worth it.

"Ok, I'm ready, so... let's give it a try?"

"My wife will show you the way," Carlisle said quietly, "I'd better stay back. Thank you so much for doing this."

"No prob, Dr. Cullen. I really like Edward." Bella chimed. And seeing the handsome doctor smile and playfully pointing a pistol finger at her as if they were old buddies, she felt like she'd already achieved something really good.

Esme couldn't keep herself from wringing her hands as she guided Bella through the generous living room and towards the big glass sliding doors that lead to the patio. She bit her tongue to not give some whispered last-minute instructions. Even though she had witnessed the parking lot miracle first hand, she wasn't quite as calm and trusting as her husband, because she had also been the one dealing with Edward's anxiety attacks that had ended each of the previous 'tests'.

But still... the almost painful feeling of hope she just couldn't keep in check grew, as she watched Bella now. Totally oblivious of the luxury around her, the skinny girl quickened her pace as soon as she caught sight of Edward. When they stepped outside, Esme had to take a little jump in order to catch up and get her hands on Bella's shoulders to make her stop.

Bella took in the boy who was sitting on an upholstered garden swing, head bent and eyes cast down. He was as pretty as she remembered. Like she had the first time, she immediately noticed his long lashes which were wet and spiky now, just like his hair. And he only had on swim trunks and a hoodie. No shoes. There has to be a pool somewhere around the house, she thought.

Edward had one leg pulled up under him, and his eyes were trained on the open book he was balancing on his knee. His other leg that was barely long enough to make his big toe touch the ground gave a steady momentum to the swing. There was no way he could have not noticed his visitors' presence, and though Edward gave no outward sign that he had, Bella suspected he was just pretending to be that absorbed in his reading.

Esme took a deep breath and put a smile on her face before she said softly, "Edward, sweetie, look who is here. Do you remember Isabella?"

Without averting her gaze from Edward, the girl whispered over her shoulder, "Just Bella." But Esme quietly shushed her, rubbing Bella's shoulders in a silent apology. "Isabella has come all the way to say hi to you. Do you want her to say hi to you, darling?"

There was no visible reaction from Edward. Bella decided to take Esme's last words as her cue and just do it. "Hi, Edward!" she practically hollered.

Esme winced and held her breath, and even Carlisle, who was watching from the opposite side of the living room, involuntarily took a step forward and pulled his hands out of his trouser pockets.

Edward's head had jerked up at the sound of Bella's voice; he was now looking at her, motionless, and his expression was impossible to read. Without the drive of his leg, the swinging died down quickly. When it stopped, Edward stood and the book fell to the patio with a loud thud. He didn't even blink at the noise but started to walk towards Bella as soon as his bare feet touched the ground.

"Oh my God..." Esme breathed. Tentatively, she released Bella's shoulders and took a step back.

When he stood before Bella, Edward reached out for her left hand and examined it intently. She knew at once what this was about. "You remember me, right? I'm B... Isabella." Just like he had done in the car, Edward circled the back of her hand with his thumbs. "It's gone for good," she assured him, "Told you, you did a good job, didn't I?"

Edward took a small, shuffling step closer to her and closed his eyes. When he slowly leaned forward and Bella bent in her knees, just enough to allow him to rest his forehead against hers, Esme covered her mouth with her hand to stifle her sob.


	9. Chapter 9

(EDWARD)

"I will answer each and every question as best as I can," Bella says. I can feel her gaze on me and I'm still scared. Damn scared and dumb and suddenly mute again, just like the boy I was when she and I first met. As if I'd learned nothing in those last eight years...

I wasn't actually speech-impaired as a child; I was fully capable of using my lips and tongue and vocal chords to form words and sentences. But most of the time I just couldn't see the reason why I should make the effort. Why would it mean anything to anyone if I spoke? Likewise, the things people talked about hardly ever made sense to me. I understood perfectly what they were saying, it just had nothing to do with anything. Their lives and mine didn't synchronize. I wanted them to leave me alone.

Occasions when I had actually felt the need for some vocal utterance were few, and even then I remained silent. It wasn't that I had no words, rather that I had too many. My head was filled with thousands and thousands of words. Endless chains of words and meanings in quick succession. Important words, empty words, pretty words, useful words, wayward words, made-up words, words, words, words... maybe I would have spoken, if I'd only been able to pick the right ones out in time.

And right now I wish I could stop that whirlwind of questions in the back of my mind, so I could just pick one and ask it. But I'm not ten years old anymore; I've learned to speak and communicate and act normal, and usually I'm pretty good at that. I just need to focus harder...

I'm trying to picture a typewriter, one of those old curvy monsters of a typewriter you sometimes still see in black and white movies, and two hands typing all those questions with just their index fingers. Slowly. Awkwardly. It's a helpful image. However, when I try to read what those fingers are typing, the paper still just shoots out from beneath the platen at a crazy speed that doesn't match the typing at all, and everything gets blurry.

Maybe I'm just too tired. I've spoken a lot today, and the hurt is exhausting. The feeling of panic that rises in my chest when I try to look Bella in the eye is debilitating.

"Maybe we should get dressed before you start asking any questions?" Bella suggests. I can still feel her eyes on me... everywhere on me. I look down at myself. I don't want to put my clothes back on, but maybe my nakedness makes her uncomfortable? Because of what happened in the kitchen... maybe she is afraid I will lose control again? Not very likely...

"It is no imminent danger to you right now; don't worry," I assure her. My limp penis really doesn't look like anything to be afraid of. It looks small, actually. Women like big penises, right? Though Bella seemed to like mine when we were in her bedroom. She looked at me and touched me there. She even took me in her mouth - oh God...

"Do you prefer them big?" I blurt out.

"What?"

"Penises... do you like big penises?"

She makes a weird noise, as if she is close to suffocating; it sounds alarming. I force myself to face her, ignoring the burning discomfort it causes, and what I see is nothing I would have expected, but it is wonderful. Bella is laughing. And crying? Her cheeks are glistening as if she'd just cried, but she's shaking with laughter now. Did I make her cry? I don't know... but I make her laugh now, and that's good. So good.

"Seriously, Edward? This is your first question?"

Seems I accidentally said something funny again, but I couldn't be happier about it. I grin at her and shrug my shoulders. "Uhm... I guess not?"

She is laughing even harder now, and I feel the hurt glide off of me like a heavy coat as I watch her. Suddenly I can hold her gaze easily again. It's like Bella has just come back from some place where I wasn't able to follow.

"It just crossed my mind," I try to explain, which she appears to find completely hysterical. She holds her belly and giggles like a little girl, and even emotionally spent as I am, it makes me laugh, too. It feels good, so good. She is amazing.

"I'm sorry," she wheezes, "but I really didn't expect that. Oh my God, you're so... so..."

She shakes her head and smiles at me so lovingly; it makes my heart beat faster. And then she's in my arms and her hands are stroking my cheeks, and she's back with me and I know this is all I want. Her warm body pressed against mine, skin to skin. She's back, and her hands tell me everything I need to know for now. Yes, they say, a thousand times yes. If she loves me the way I love her, or some other way, or no way at all - I don't care. Right now, this is all I want... all I need.

"Bella...," I breathe.

"You're just incredible, do you know that?" she whispers. "You're too good to be true, Little Green." She peppers my face with kisses and rubs her cheek against mine. "And your penis is king-size as far as I can judge. And yes, I like them big."

That's good, right?

One question down.

.

.

.

(BELLA)

He didn't want to put his clothes back on. So we are still naked. We are lying in my bed, which is also still naked since I didn't bother to put a new sheet on it. He is looking at me again – I mean,  _really_ looking at me – and it's such a relief. We are both pretty groggy, so we just lie here, facing each other in silence. Edward is holding my hand, close to his mouth, alternately blowing heavy sighs or soft kisses on the back of my hand. I can see he is struggling.

"My thoughts are all over the place," I offer. "How about yours?"

He nods his head yes and sighs again; this time it sounds like a little moan.

"Too many questions, huh?" Nod.

"You don't know where to begin?" Another nod.

"I'm still amazed that you're talking at all... to hear your voice. It's awesome." And again with the nod.

"Edward, you already messed up with your first question anyway – no need to start being picky now."

I am delighted to see a little smirk pull at the corners of his mouth.

"It made you laugh," he says. "I liked that."

"Yeah, me too. Listen, I have an idea. Do you remember when you were little and how you sometimes got stuck when you had to make a choice? Like that day when I wanted to make you a sandwich, and because I didn't know what kind of sandwich you liked and because Esme just made the very same thing for you every day and never gave you any choice, you had trouble choosing. Hells, I didn't know you hated choices, and I offered you cheese and ham and tuna, and oh my God, you went almost catatonic! Do you remember that day?"

He smiles and swallows. "I remember."

"You probably would have starved if I had waited for you to pick a filling. Do you remember what I said to you?"

"Every word," he says. "You told me to stop trying, and then you said,  _'I will count to three now, and on three..._ "

I finish the sentence in unison with him, " _...you will just point your finger at one of these things without thinking._ "

"Ate my first tuna sandwich," Edward mumbles. "Delicious."

I look into his green eyes, wondering what else he does remember with such precision. He even recalls my exact words. That old memory just came back to me out of nowhere, but if I search my mind for more, all I can find are blurry fragments. Anyway, this special one comes in handy.

"Maybe it still works. Let me count to three, and then you just spill the next best thing that's on your mind, ok?"

_It's what you're doing anyway all the time, Litte Green, so don't be shy now!_

He closes his eyes and squeezes my hand. That's a yes.

"One...

two...

three!"

"Why husband did you sent him where?" Edward gasps out.

_Huh?_

I gape at him. He moans, "Fuck... I mean..."

We both burst into laughter, and the mattress is shaking underneath us as we hold on to each other.

"That sucked," he snorts.

"No, no," I manage between giggles, "that was a really good question. Four questions in one, actually."

"Yeah, I'm that eloquent," he says, pulling me closer. Our foreheads bump together and after a few more gasps our laughter dies down. We stay like that for several endless seconds, waiting for our breathing to even out which just doesn't happen. His mouth brushes against mine ever so slightly, like the wing of a butterfly, and then he just waits. He is keeping perfectly still, with his parted lips almost touching mine. His breath is ghosting over my face and he just waits for... what? My permission?

I gently press my mouth on his. I'd like to tell myself that it is just because I don't have the heart, after his breakdown in the bathroom, to deny him a simple, chaste kiss like this. But the tingling in my chest and stomach and further south is betraying me, and who am I kidding – I'm the one who shoves her tongue between his lips, eager to deepen the connection and oh God, it feels so good...

Edward kisses me back for all that he's worth, breathing heavily through his nose, and I can feel his cock harden and twitch against my naked belly. A muffled moan escapes him before he suddenly pulls back and whispers, "I'm sorry... kissing you is just... I can't help it. Just ignore it."

"Ignore it?"

"Yes, please. It will go away, I promise. Can I kiss you again?"

"Will that help?"

"Yes!"

I cock an eyebrow at him.

"No," he backpedals, "and yes. Maybe. I don't know. Please...?"

We kiss again, longer this time, more heated. It definitely doesn't help making the king-size 'it' go away, but to hell with it. I revel in the knowledge that a kiss, just a simple kiss from me can do this to him. Ok, it's not a very simple kiss any more, what with his hand stroking my backside and gliding down my thigh to the hollow of my knee, hitching my leg over his hips. The voice in my head telling me we shouldn't do this is reduced to a feeble murmuring, and I can hardly hear it any more over Edward's soft moans and the rushing of my own blood.

We are both panting when he stops and leans back to look at me, that special signature crease between his brows. His cheeks and part of his neck are a little flushed with excitement... it's endearing. I want to kiss those pink areas of skin, feel the heat radiating from them on my lips. But his eyes bore into mine, asking me to wait.

He blinks a few times and takes a deep breath. "So your husband... what went wrong? Why didn't he make love to you?"

Oh... ok. Questions. Answers. Talk. And yeah... telling him about my fucked-up marriage will be quite helpful to make his erection go away, I suppose. I prop myself up on my elbow and look down to where his hand is still stroking my thigh.

"I just wasn't what he needed," I answer.

"Was he mean to you?"

"No, not deliberately."

"But he hurt you." It doesn't sound like a question any more.

"It just hurt to know that I couldn't be what he needed. Ever. It hurt that he didn't want me. It was not his fault though. So we both decided to end this marriage; it just didn't work."

"If he didn't want you, why did he marry you in the first place?"

"We were friends before, and I guess he thought it would work out. We're still friends, I think. He is living with someone else now." I try to remember if Edward and Jacob ever met. "Maybe you remember him? Jacob Black?"

"No." His answer comes immediately; with his infallible memory, he doesn't even need to think about it. "So you sent Jacob away because he didn't want you?"

"No, like I said, we both agreed...," I falter, feeling angry all of a sudden. I realize I'm still trying to protect Jacob after all this time, still trying to fulfill the only purpose our marriage ever was to him.

_We both agreed, my ass!_

"Actually, he stayed with me for whatever reason until he found someone he truly wanted, and then he left me." That's more like it. It feels good to finally admit it to myself.

"So he is an asshole," Edward states, simple as that. I laugh out loud, but he doesn't join in. "Why are you still friends with him?"

Always straight to the point, right? "Well..." I'm at a loss for a moment.

"And we? Are we 'friends', too?" he asks, and his hand on my thigh stills. I don't get a chance to even think about an answer. "He didn't want you, but I do. And you are everything I need. Bella, you are the... the only..."

His brows knit together as he struggles for words, and I'm getting a little anxious about the direction our conversation is taking once more. I don't want to hurt him again; I don't want to see him like that again. Ever. But I won't lie to him either. I just need to be more careful this time.

And as I'm inwardly preparing for another L-word discussion, being oh so reasonable and sensitive at wording my arguments in advance, Little Green finally finds what he's been looking for. He finds it and says it... and totally steals my thunder. Because there is a truth in his words, so simple and pristine, the air between us seems to vibrate with it. It is a truth that defies explanation and eludes doubt altogether...

"Of all the people in this world, you are my person!"


	10. Chapter 10

(EDWARD)

"Of all the people in this world, you are my person."

She can't deny this. There is no one else. There is no one like her for me.

I'm not like that Jacob. I would never ever let anyone or anything hurt her.

I would die for her.

.

.

.

(FORKS, AUGUST 2004)

It was on a Wednesday when Bella heard Edward speak for the first time. It was just one single word and she was the only one who heard it. Well, she and the dog...

After discreetly monitoring Bella and Edward for a month – and with a little pushing from her husband – by the end of August Esme had finally resumed her work as a volunteer at the Olympic Community Action Program, a local charity group. On Wednesdays, she would help organizing Meals on Wheels, which meant that Edward had Bella to himself all afternoon.

And on Wednesdays, Bella would bring home made cookies. She made different types of cookies all the time; never did she bake the same kind twice. Edward slowly lost his aversion for everything unpredictable and learned to enjoy the anticipation... at least when it came to Bella's surprise baked goods.

Wednesday had become Edward's favorite day.

Today's cookies were amazing - semi-sweet, with a white chocolate icing and peanut butter chips inside – and they looked and smelled so mouth-watering that Edward let go an excited little laugh when he peeked inside the Tupperware container.

Bella suggested they have a milk and cookie picnic in the garden, and he nodded enthusiastically. He quickly skimmed through the bundle of laminated communication cards he wore on a lanyard around his neck and then showed her the one that said, 'I'm hungry'.

"Sure you are," Bella giggled. "Come on, make yourself useful. We need plates and cups."

The boy jumped into action, and soon they had a blanket spread out on the lawn and Bella was dividing the cookies equally onto two saucers. Edward watched her intently; he loved watching Bella when she did things like that. She had a special way of handling multiple items, like the way she used to put his pencils in rank and file when she sat down with him to supervise his homework. Or the day when she had brought a bag of jelly beans, she had started to sort them by color - just for fun, she'd said. But for Edward, watching her tiny hands create a comforting order where there'd been chaos before was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen.

Bella was quite aware of Edward's eyes on her. She also knew that he liked what she was doing. He liked things in balance... order and symmetry calmed him. So she put an extra effort in counting the exact same amount of cookies for each saucer and arranged them in a neat pattern.

Without looking up, she said, "Why don't you go and get your book? I can read to you if you'd like," and smiled to herself when she heard his naked feet pit-pat inside.

She was just about to pour two cups of milk when she felt the hair in her neck stand up. She didn't recognize it right away, but something was wrong. Then she noticed the subtle but constant noise that didn't belong here, and it made her blood curdle... it was the panting of a dog. A  _big_  dog, judging by the sound of it.

Bella was afraid of big dogs.

She slowly turned her head to look over her shoulder and stifled a scream. There he was, only a few yards away... a big black German Shepherd was sitting on the lawn inside of the Cullen garden. He was already  _inside_! Her heart was racing. The dog was fucking huge, a nightmare of a dog. His long tongue was lolling out between his scary fangs, dripping and twitching.

And he was already  _inside_!

He must have jumped over the fence. Almost too scared to be able to move, Bella got on her feet in slow motion. The dog just sat there and stared. Bella suddenly realized that she knew him; it was one of the dogs from the Quileute reservation. She remembered that she'd seen Jake walking him. Jake even had teased her a few times, pretending to unleash him.  _'He just wants to play, Bella!'_ Jake thought it was fun and that her fear was silly, but Bella had been terrified.

Was Jake here? Did he let the dog in, thinking of it as a big joke? Bella's eyes skimmed the trees and bushes. "Jake?" she asked meekly. And a little louder, "Jake, are you here?" There was no answer, but when Bella looked at the dog again, he was no longer sitting. He was on all four paws and yes – he had definitely moved a little closer. Time ran out.

On shaking legs, Bella turned towards the house and almost lost it when she saw Edward standing in the open glass door, wide-eyed, with his book tucked under his arm. She didn't think twice – not withstanding that she'd give up her own escape that way, she called to him, "Get inside! And close the door!" He didn't move. "Now, Edward!" she yelled.

Looking over her shoulder once more, Bella saw the dog breaking into a trot. She finally panicked and turned around to run. Of course, she stumbled and fell. She fell on the blanket, landing on her stomach and sending saucers and cups flying. The dog was there in a heartbeat; she could hear him panting right next to her. Scared to death, Bella covered her head with her arms and kicked out blindly at the now growling animal. She felt something tug at the leg of her jeans and wailed. The fabric gave way with a ripping noise as the dog started to drag the sobbing girl across the lawn.

And then Bella heard the yelling...

"Aaaaahhhhhhh...!" It was a desperate roar, a war cry of sorts, and there was only one person who could have given it. The dog yelped as if something had hit him and let go of her. Bella felt something soft and heavy slam down onto her calves, pinning them down. She writhed underneath that new weight, struggling to turn over. Once she was on her back, she hastily propped herself up on her elbows, looked up and gasped.

Little Edward had thrown himself over her legs, a spade in both his hands, raising it over his head threateningly against the surprised animal. Edward was  _here_ , when he was supposed to be safely inside! And he was trying to shield her, with nothing but an ordinary spade and his own small body between her and at least 100 pounds of pissed-off German Shepherd... Bella thought she'd pass out any moment with shock. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't move.

The dog had backed off a good deal and was now nervously stepping from side to side, confused. He actually looked a little frightened. And he was limping, avoiding putting any weight on his left hind leg where Edward had hit him with the garden tool. He growled at the small human who had shown up so unexpectedly and hurt him.

Edward growled back, shaking the spade.

The dog crouched and took a slow step towards the two kids.

That was when Edward for the first time raised his voice to speak. Loud and clear, he said, "No!"

It had no immediate effect on the rattled animal. But hearing Edward utter a word finally kicked Bella out of her stupor. She grabbed a handfull of the scattered cookies and threw them. The dog, more cautious now, ducked under the missiles. But after a brief snuffling, he started to eat them, the humans completely forgotten.

Bella wriggled her legs out from underneath Edward, pulled him up on his feet and quickly dragged him towards the house. She closed the door and grabbed the cell phone Esme had given her for any cases of emergency. It was then that she noticed Edward was standing there, staring at her and still clutching the spade.

Bella dropped the phone and went down on her knees in front of him.

"Edward... oh God. What were you thinking? I told you to stay inside! Oh my God, you could have..."

She tried to pry his fingers off the spade handle, but he held on to it so hard that his knuckles were white. "Let go," she pleaded, tearing up. "You can put it away now. Please..." He didn't loose his grip.

Bella gave in. The aftermath of the shock finally got the better of her; she hid her face in her hands and sobbed helplessly.

After a few seconds, the spade hit the floor with a loud clang.

Then there were little arms around her neck, little hands stroking her hair, and a small voice whispering, "No."

.

.

.

(EDWARD)

She nods her head slowly and whispers, "Yes."

Or I think it was a yes?

Was it?

It was barely audible...

"Yes?" I hold my breath.

She pulls me closer, pulls me into her warm embrace... home... her skin on my skin, her lips on my forehead, her words my release...

"I am your person, Edward."


	11. Chapter 11

(BELLA)

I can feel his heart throbbing against my chest as he clings to me. His breath is coming in short puffs through his nose, hot against the skin in the crook of my neck. "I know," I tell him, though I'm not quite sure what it is I know. I feel like some kind of wordless understanding is passing between us... about being 'each other's person'. But what does it really mean?

I envy Edward for the certainty with which he claims to simply _'know'_  that he loves me. I really don't feel like my flop of a marriage has enabled me to tell love from delusion now. Or maybe love is always just delusional. And while I'm at it, hell yes... I think I'm falling in love with Edward, and I can hardly keep myself from telling him so.

But I shouldn't tell him. How can this possibly be love? We've just met again hours ago. Hours! And he is only eighteen, and he is special, and Esme... oh God, Esme. I really shouldn't. Though it's hard not to feel like falling in love with Edward, what with him baring his soul – and his body – to me like that. I want to give myself over to that feeling. He's just so beautiful.

Maybe I'm just romanticizing everything; I can't tell. But isn't this what people are doing all the time anyway, when it's just hormones going wild? Being meant for each other and such... Christ, I lost my virginity this morning; who wants to blame me for getting emo? I never was even half as attracted to Jake and yet I had confused what we had with love. Stupid, sentimental, romantic me. And what did it bring me? Yeah, right...! And what did I learn from it? Not much apparently.

He is still clinging to me, unmoving. And I hold him tight and I realize that I don't know shit about love  _(yeah, thank you very much, Jake)_ , but still...

I bite my lip. Then I bite my tongue.  _I love you, Edward._

No. I really shouldn't.

"Bella?"

I wince a little at the sudden sound of him speaking. "Yes?"

"Can I be inside of you one more time? Just a little?"

 _What? Again?_ Is he serious? "Edward, I don't think we –"

"Please," he whispers against my temple. "I just want it so badly."

_Oh God..._

How is it even possible that his words go straight down to my girl parts? Again! I can't decide whether to laugh or to cry. I can feel his erection nudge my belly, and there's no way to  _'ignore it'_  this time.

"I'll be gentle," he says, his voice soft and pleading. "I promise." I am literally melting in his arms. And he knows it; he knows I want him before I know it myself. I don't need to say anything; my body is betraying me. Also, I just might have nodded my head 'yes'... Christ, what is wrong with me?

We slowly untangle and he reaches across my body and opens the nightstand drawer. We don't speak. I use my teeth with the wrapping like he had done this morning. He is caressing my neck and my cheeks, stroking back wayward locks of my hair, as I sheath him with the condom. His eyes never leave mine. There is no awkward fiddling this time, no rash excitement. Despite the powerful desire for each other, this is a moment of tranquility.

Everything is slow and calm... the breathing, the movements, the way he brings his body on top of mine and nudges my legs apart. Everything is silent, except for the hypnotizing sounds of our lovemaking... air being sucked in and leaving the lunges in a mesmerizing rhythm, the small whoosh of skin sliding along skin, the little smacks of lips and tongues, and the moan Edward exhales when he touches me  _there_  and finds me wet and swollen and ready for him.

He enters me ever so slowly. I am a bit sore, but I don't care because the sensation of him filling me, the heat building and spreading inside of me immediately drowns out any discomfort. He hasn't even started to thrust yet, but goes deeper and deeper, pushing forward minutely until our hips are pressed flush against each other. His eyes burn into mine and they speak to me, asking questions and giving answers at the same time. They are not clouded with lust this time, and lust is not what this is about. It's about being close, impossibly close to each other.

We're taking our time; we both want this to last. He is hovering over me, perfectly still, until I lift my own hips ever so slightly and he pulls back for the first time, almost all the way out. I gasp at the sensation of him moving inside of me, craving him back immediately. When he pushes back, he lets go a prolonged sigh and closes his eyes. His head sinks against my shoulder, and he stills again. Slowly, his upper body comes flush against my chest. His right hand is cradling my cheek. I lean my face into it and give myself over to the feeling. I've never felt that safe and cared for in my life, never felt that much...

"...home," he whispers.

_Oh God! I love you, Edward._

His left arm underneath me tightens its hold across my shoulder blades, his hand on the nape of my neck pulls me even closer to him. Carefully, to keep us joined, he pulls his knees up and spreads his legs until I can feel his thighs on either side of my hips. I cross my ankles behind his bottom. We couldn't get any closer if we tried.

There's no pulling and pushing any more; when he starts moving again, our bodies stay that way as though they're glued to each other. Very slowly, very sweetly, he gyrates his hips. I welcome him deep, so deep inside of me, embracing him with everything I have... arms, legs, heart and soul. For a moment I feel like I could fight for this, for him. Like I should fight for us. Like I should tell Esme and everyone else to go to hell. Like it must be the easiest thing in the world to make this work.

Edward and I. Little Green and Easybella. Aren't we meant to be?

I don't know how long we keep going like that with our bodies rocking like one; time has lost its meaning. But neither of us is searching release. After a while, I feel him going soft again and we just slow down until we stop moving at all. He lifts his head and we look at each other, contented and filled with wonder. A silent, mutual  _'Are you ok?' - 'Yes, I am.'_  passes between us.

"More than that," I say. And he smiles and nods. His weight becomes a little uncomfortable; he notices before I can say anything and lifts himself up on his elbows, slipping out of me in the process. We both giggle a little at the feeling.

He bends down to kiss me. We don't close our eyes; I don't know why. But it is lovely, kissing with our eyes open. I never did this before. It feels even more intimate this way.

"Can I stay?" he suddenly asks.

I turn my head to the window. The sun is low; it must be late afternoon by now. "You mean, over night?"

"No." He takes my hand and holds it against his heart. "I mean, can I stay?"

_Yes! I love you, Edward._

My heart breaks into a mild gallop. "Well, you've just got home, right?" I try to make light of it.

His brows knit together. "I don't understand what that means."

Of course not. I'm so stupid. I know what he's asking, and yet I'm making jokes. Why can't I just say it? What is there to lose?

"Bella?"

Shall Esme kick me out of here, dammit! I am his person, and if she can't see that...

"Please stay with me, Edward."  _I love you!_

His eyes squeeze shut. "Yes," he moans, "a thousand times yes!" Then he hugs me tightly, laughing into my neck.

"A thousand times?" I giggle, surprised.

"A thousand times and more," he confirms. "Yes!"

And I could swear he does a little fist-pump behind my back.


	12. Chapter 12

(FORKS, AUGUST 2004)

"What do you mean, he spoke?" Carlisle's voice rose an octave with surprise at Bella's sudden revelation. With a quick glance into the rear view mirror he made sure there was no one driving behind them, then he pulled over. When the car came to a standstill, he shut off the engine and turned in his seat.

Bella wasn't looking at him but at her fingers, that were nervously fiddling with the lid of the empty Tupperware box in her lap. She looked uncomfortable, to put it mildly. ' _No wonder',_  Carlisle thought. It had been a strained evening for all of them, what with Edward behaving so strangely.

When he came home from his shift tonight, Bella had still been there when she should have been home long since, and his apparently very agitated son was clinging to her for dear life. Edward was on the verge of an anxiety attack, and no cooing or pleading would make him let go. Esme was also very upset. She even once tried to take Edward's hand and drag him away from Bella, half-heartedly so. But that had only made things worse.

It turned out the only way to put Edward to sleep tonight was with Bella at his bedside, holding his hand. The girl had assured the Cullens several times that she didn't mind, and so Carlisle called her father, explained the situation as best as he could and then had asked for permission to have Bella stay for a little longer, promising to see her home himself as soon as Edward was asleep. Chief Swan had not been exactly thrilled, but Carlisle told him it was an exceptional, one-time situation that would most likely occur never again.

Little did he know...

But now that he was looking at the squirming girl in the passenger seat, he finally got the notion that there was more behind this evening's events. And the information she had just blurted out without warning shook him to the core.

"Edward spoke? To you?"

Bella kept her eyes trained on her hands and nodded.

"God, Isabella, that is... why didn't you mention it before? And what did he say?"

Bella drew in a shattered breath before she merely whispered, "He said just one word; he said 'no'. But he did it twice, and I'm sorry, but I... I... I didn't want you or Mrs. Cullen to get mad at me, and I know I should have called when it happened, and I wanted to, but..." The last words came out between hiccoughs and sobs, and her shoulders were shaking.

"Now, now...," Carlisle soothed. He gently took her small hands; they were ice cold. He started to rub them comfortingly between his palms. "Isabella, won't you tell me what has happened today? I promise, I won't get mad at you, and neither will Esme. But we need to know, don't you think?"

And so Bella told him. About the planned garden picnic, the dog, Edward, his cry, the spade, the cookies, the escape... everything.

She told Carlisle about the word Edward had first yelled at the dog and later whispered to her. She told him about how Edward had clung to her all day from the very moment he had dropped the spade.

She told him that she didn't really know why she hadn't called Esme but had removed every trace of their disastrous picnic and the whole dog incident instead, like she needed to conceal a crime. She didn't even remember how she had managed to remove the blanket and dishes from the lawn, or put the spade back into its place, with Edward holding on to her all the time.

All she remembered was, that there hadn't been any more cookies on the lawn when she went outside, and that she had waited almost two hours before opening the door, to make sure the dog was gone. She repeated that special bit of information several times; like it was her very pivotal point. "I swear, the dog was gone, Dr. Cullen," she sobbed, "I searched the grass for cookies, but there were none. And the dog was gone."

Carlisle was having trouble wrapping his head around the story he'd just been told, but his heart swelled for both the distraught girl and his brave son. He tried not to think about what could have happened to the kids, but focused on the fact that they both got away unharmed. He pulled Bella into a hug and held her for a long while, telling her that she had done well and that he was proud of her. He rocked her gently, telling her how special she was to his family and how thankful he and Esme were for her being such a good friend to Edward. He told her everything would be all right, until her tears had dried.

And all the while, there was one thought repeating itself over and over in his head: 'Edward spoke!' He couldn't wait to give the news to Esme.

.

.

.

(EDWARD)

How long have I been standing here already, staring at the front door? I don't want to be here. I try to feel ashamed about even thinking such a thing, because I know I should be ashamed. But it doesn't work that way. This is my parents' house; this is home. Or it is supposed to be... but I want to be somewhere else. I want to be with Bella, and I can't feel any shame for wanting to. She is home to me now.

I miss her.

We were together all Sunday. Talking. Touching. Making love. And she let me spend the night. More talking, more love-making. I didn't know I could do that much talking, but it was easy as always with Bella. I like the talking. But I like the touching more. I miss the touching. It's like I can still feel her... her hands, her skin, her lips... everywhere on me. And then again not. I guess this is what phantom pain feels like.

She went to work in the morning and we said goodbye in the stairway. I started missing her the very moment she left the house. I felt lost, disoriented. I wanted to follow her, but of course I didn't. I knew it was ridiculous, but the urge was so strong. I stood there in the stairway for quite a while, scrutinizing the strange feeling of being uprooted that had come over me.

I think I would have followed her eventually, but I don't even know where she works. She is a cashier in a drugstore; that's what she told me. But where? What drugstore? I wish I had asked her. And how long is her shift? Maybe she's at home already. What if she doesn't come home? What if something happens to her? How can I go inside and have dinner with Esme and Carlisle when I don't know where Bella is and whether she is ok? I can't even call her. We didn't exchange numbers...

My cell phone in my pocket vibrates and interrupts my frenzied thoughts. It's only then I notice I've been tearing at my hair again. It's a bad habit. I'll probably get a head-ache later. Doesn't matter. I whip out my phone and flip it open. It's Esme.

"Sweetie, are you coming? We were just wondering if you -"

"I'm here," I cut in. There's a moment of silence, then I hear a typical 'Esme' sigh.

"How long have you been ' _here_ '?"

"A while."

"Edward, are you all right?"

"No," I say truthfully. My heart is beating much too fast and I have trouble breathing. I can't stop thinking about Bella, can't stop imagining the crazy scenarios of all the bad things that could happen to her. I can't stop thinking, ' _What if she doesn't come back?'_

Before I can say anything else, the front door of my parents' house opens and Carlisle comes out. He takes in my appearance, and whatever he sees, it makes him forego any greeting.

"Edward, what is it?"

As always, it is hard for me to talk to Carlisle, or to even look at him. That hasn't changed much. But I hear genuine concern in his voice, and this is an emergency, sort of. I raise my head and my eyes find that special spot right next to his right ear, about 4 inches above his shoulder, and I suck in a wheezing breath.

"It's Bella, Sir," I choke out. "We need to call her." I'm losing it; this is silly. I need to get a grip.

"Edward." I hear them both call my name, Esme over the phone and Carlisle right in front of me. He steps a little closer. He is telling me to calm down. He is extending a hand towards me as if to touch my shoulder. And I'm losing it. I drop my cell and its shell shatters into pieces as it hits the pavement. I flinch and tug at my hair. Darkness floods my field of vision from the edges until there's just a small circle of light left in the center. And then Esme appears in my pinpoint view. She pulls my hands out of my hair and I'm taking gulps of air and, thinking of Bella, I know I need to come back. I need to come down. This is important. Esme's lips are forming words. What is she saying? I need to focus.

"...it about Bella? Take a deep breath and tell me what happened."

Right. Bella. What happened? "She left." No, that sounds stupid. "For work. She's at work, and I... I don't know..."

"What, darling?" Esme is rubbing my shoulders; it drives me insane. I don't want her comfort now. I need to find Bella; I  _need_ to know she is ok.

"I don't know where... I don't know..."  _Calm down, calm down, breathe...!_ All this anxiety is only making things worse, but it is so hard to pull myself together with Esme's frantic rubbing and stroking. I brush her hands off of me and take a step back. She casts a quick glance to Carlisle and when she turns to face me again, she looks hurt.

"What has she done to you?" she whispers, and there's an angry crease between her brows. Done to me? Who? Bella? No! What...? Another rush of panic. Please, no... why doesn't she understand?

"Edward." It's Carlisle. I can't deal with Carlisle now. Not when even Esme is being difficult. I don't want to. Not now. But his voice is insisting, and from the corner of my eye I see him lay a hand on Esme's shoulder, keeping her from further inquiry.

"Edward," he says again, "son, what is it you don't know? What's troubling you?"

Oh... right question, good question. Relief floods through me because the right question always helps me to say what needs to be said. I manage to look at him, well... at his chest, that is. My stomach turns; there's a burning in my throat and in my nose, and I know if I don't say it right now I won't be able to say it at all. I feel my face contort the very moment I speak, and the words come out like a moan.

"I don't know if she'll come back!" I blurt out the essence of my dread. And then everything gets blurry. My eyes are burning now, too. I blink, and they spill over. Hot. Wet. Down my cheeks. Weakness. Pain. "What if she doesn't come back?" I whisper, to no one in particular. It's just a thought. A terrible, irrational, devastating thought I cannot get out of my head.

"Oh sweetheart... did you two get into a fight?" Angry Esme is gone, caring Esme is back. I shake my head no. Speaking is impossible right now; I can't stop swallowing. I don't even know what it is I'm swallowing over and over.

"Then what... why...?" Esme starts again, but Carlisle interrupts her, squeezing her shoulder with intent.

"I'll go and get her," he says. "I know where she works."

_What?_

Before I can even think, my head shoots up and my eyes meet his. And what I see there makes me hold his gaze for the first time ever. He understands. He  _understands_  what I'm going through. I hear Esme gasp.

"Don't worry, I'll get her," he says again. "If she's already home, I'll pick her up there. You and Esme just go inside, calm down and set an additional place in the meantime. I'll find her, Edward, and I'll bring her here, ok?"

 _God, yes!_ I swallow once more. A shudder runs through me, head to toe. My eyes drift away and settle on the safe spot next to his face again. I only manage a few words, but I mean them. I  _feel_ them.

"Thank you, Sir."

.

.

.

(FORKS, AUGUST 2004)

"Shall we open it?" Bella asked excitedly. She was getting a little impatient, since Edward had been staring at the wrapped present she had brought for minutes now. She had been rattling on about how much fun it had been for her to make what she thought was the perfect thing to give to him, without giving anything away, of course. "Come on," she huffed. "I would think at least you should be a little bit curious."

Well, Edward wasn't exactly fond of surprises, except for when it came to Bella's cookies. And there weren't cookies under that wrapping, that much he could see. It was flat and soft. He eyed it warily.

"Don't you want to know what I made for you?" Bella cooed.

Edward looked up at her with a totally earnest expression, and said, "No."

 _'Great'_ , Bella thought,  _'his favorite word! Oh no, wait... it's his only word!'_

With a dramatic sigh, she snatched the package off the table and started to unwrap it herself. She chuckled when she saw Edward craning his neck.

_Oh yes, he so does not want to know what it is!_

The last piece of paper wrapping fell away, and what came forth was a piece of red fabric. She quickly pulled it behind her back and got up from her chair. She rounded the table and held out her hand; Edward took it without hesitation and followed her into the hallway. In front of the big coat rack mirror, Bella grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him so that he faced his own reflection, and stepped behind him.

"Close your eyes and raise your arms," she commanded with a smirk. Edward did as he was told; he trusted her completely. Which was a huge mistake, because Bella quickly stripped him of his polo shirt and then insidiously took advantage of his vulnerable posture. Without warning she tickled his armpits, resulting in a severe squirm-and-giggle fit on Edward's behalf. They ended up in a heap of limbs on the floor, with Bella's hands trapped under Edward's arms, both kids snorting and gasping for air.

After that, it took quite a while until Bella had made the boy resume his former position, face to the mirror, arms raised. He was still grinning and his arms twitched overcautiously when Bella moved closer. "Tickle-truce!" she snickered. "I promise! Stay still now..."

Gently, she slid the red fabric, which turned out to be a t-shirt, over his arms and head, and smoothed it down. "There you go," she whispered.

Edward looked at his reflection in the mirror and smiled. The black lettering stood out prominently on the bright red shirt. He didn't quite get the main point of it, but he was excited that Bella had made something especially for him. Very much so.

"Do you like it?" Bella asked, biting her lip.

He turned to look at her, and nodded.

"Really?"

She still worried her bottom lip, looking a little anxious. So Edward decided to rise to the occasion and make an effort to let her know, really know, that he indeed liked her gift. He softly spoke his second word.

"Yes."

Then he turned around again, oblivious of Bella's surprised gasp behind him, and admired once more his new, unique piece of clothing. The print on his chest was showing back-to-front in the mirror, but Edward had no trouble reading it.

It said, ' _Chatterbox_ '.

* * *


	13. Chapter 13

(BELLA)

_Knock, knock, knock..._

"Dude, read the sign; we're closed." Tanya sighs and rolls her eyes, the effect dramatically enhanced by the at least four layers of mascara she's wearing  _(Lash Accelerator, third aisle, second rack, $12.95)_. Her grimace makes me giggle. That or the beer. Or both? I'm having my second Budweiser  _(on sale this week, $2.00 a can, instead of $2.10)_ , and I'm feeling a little lightheaded.

Knowing that Edward is having dinner with his parents and won't be back any time soon tonight, I feel like I have no reason to go home today at all. I can't really see myself sitting there holding my breath for any sign of life from him, like a lovesick teenager glued to the phone, and yet this is probably exactly what I would do. Tanya was positively shocked when I actually accepted her weekly offer to buy me an after work drink for the first time ever. But she got over it pretty quick.

So after closing the drugstore and cashing-out, I joined my chatty co-worker in the backroom where I am now listening to her weekend adventures, smoking and drinking and trying to not recollect the feel of Little Green's lips on mine every three or four minutes, for a change. Stressing the word ' _trying_ ' here. Yes, that bad!

_Knock, knock, knock..._

Whoever our after-hour customer may be, he is persistent; I must give him that.

"We're closed!" Tanya hollers, "C. L. O. S. E. D." Then she moans, "Jesus motherfucking Christ – what a moron! Is he illiterate?"

"Maybe it's an emergency? Bad migraine... out of Percocet... who knows? Shouldn't we take a look?"

"Yeah, maybe it's a batshit crazy junkie, ready to slash us as soon as we open the door, who knows? No way, Bella!" She bears her teeth like a chimp and shakes an invisible knife, giving the perfect impersonation of a lunatic serial killer. I almost choke on my beer. Tanya pats my back and grins at me, "Axe murder guy will give up soon, don't worry."

_Knock, knock, knock..._

I snort with laughter. "I don't think so..." Whether curiosity kills the cat or not, it gets the better of me and I get up to peek through the door crack. It takes me a few seconds to grasp what I'm seeing. My laughter stops with a last embarrassing squeak, and I know  _this_  cat is bound to die. It's Carlisle Cullen.  _Oh my God..._

"Oh my God!"

Apparently I said that out loud, because Tanya squeals, "What? What?" She has stepped behind me and tries to look past my head, eager to examine what she believes must be Hannibal Lecter with a really bad headache. But I'm frozen in place, unable to speak. It's like an iron hand closes its cold grip around my heart to keep it from beating.

Dr. Cullen is definitely not here to replenish his aspirin supplies. He's here for me. I bet after hearing the news of the day (i.e. fresh divorcee Bella Swan seducing his barely legal son), he has come to tell me to keep my hands the fuck off of Edward. Probably not in exactly this wording, but anyway... Carlisle leaving the Cullen family dinner and driving all this way can only mean one thing: he is here to tell me that I'm never going to see Edward again.

_Knock, knock, knock..._

_Fuck!_

Tanya whisper-screams behind me, "Is that Mr. Cullen?"

"Dr.," I correct her mechanically.

_I'm never going to see Edward again!_

"Did you not pay your rent or something?"

"Or something, Tanya, yes ..."

_I'm never going to see Edward again?_

The vise-like grip around my heart briefly tightens once more, before it gives way to something I haven't felt in a long time. Tanya lets go a shocked gasp and steps back as I straighten my shoulders and open the backroom door. In a few long strides I am at the front door.

It's a strange mixture of pride, anger and wild determination that has come over me; it makes my head spin and I know this is not because of the liquid courage  _(on sale this week, $2.00 a can)_ , but something genuine that has waited inside of me to come out for much too long. And as soon as there's no longer a glass panel in between, I finally let it out, right into Carlisle Cullen's face:

"No!"

"Isabella, I'm glad I caught..." he starts, and then stops mid-sentence, surprised. "No?"

"That's right, no!" I spit, breathlessly. "I know why you're here, Dr. Cullen ..."

"Carlisle," he interposes weakly. But I'm on a roll, sort of, and damn – it feels good!

"Ok... Carlisle – thanks ... whatever. But don't even bother; the answer is no!"

Dr. Cullen, I mean Carlisle, eyes me with a half-smirk. "I beg your pardon?" He doesn't look mad at all, and I'm confused for a moment. But I won't back down.

I hear the unmistakable click and hiss of another Budweiser being opened behind me, and Tanya cheering, "Go girl!" She clearly has no fucking idea what's going on, but in a silly impulse I kind of appreciate her emotional support.

_Exactly, go me! I did nothing wrong. I don't care what it looked like. We did nothing wrong._

"Whatever you're going to say, Dr. Carlisle, I am Edward's person." _Dr. Carlisle? Jesus...!_  "I'm his person, and I. Will. Not. Stay. Away. From him!"

He pouts his lips as if to prevent that damn half-smirk to grow into a full one, and I get even angrier. I suddenly wish Esme was here too, so I could tell them both off at the same time. It's all I can do to not stomp my foot in defiance.

"The only person who can tell me to leave Edward alone is Edward himself. No one else!"

_Not going to happen!_

There we stand – he in his Armani-Boss-Whatever hundreds of dollar suit, and I in my sweaty tee and the embarrassing, pink drugstore apron with my name-tag on it - staring at each other. I'm huffing, ready to fight. I feel invincible.

_Never gonna see Edward again, my Ass! And best regards to your wife, Dr. Cullenlisle; tell her I'm not backing down that easily!_

Carlisle is the first to break the eye contact. He is still smirking though, and I have to blink a few times as I feel my temporary superiority waver. His gaze wanders down to my name-tag; he nods a few times and then he speaks my name as if reading it syllable for syllable.

"Isabella," he says softly and looks up again. "I'm actually very happy to hear that. By the way, do you like Spaghetti Aglio e Olio?"

.

.

.

(EDWARD)

I've been over the top. Recollecting that episode thirty minutes ago, moment by moment, and watching my agitated self from the outside, I can see that now. Over-reaction. Over-action.

I'm better now, but Esme is upset. She hasn't seen me like that in a while, and I regret that she had to witness my... lapse. She is sitting across from me, elbows on the table, chin resting on her clasped hands. She stopped talking a while ago and is probably wearing her best 'I'm worried about you' face now.

I know she is... I know, I know... always Esme, always worried. But I don't look at her. I can't. I'm too busy counting the stitches in the embroidery of the tablecloth. I run the tip of my index finger over the little green leaves of the rose pattern, again and again. Eleven parallel threads, first increasing and then diminishing in length form such a leaf, absolutely reliable... not ten, not twelve... eleven stitches. Every single leaf. I'm grateful for the embroiderer's accuracy, for the symmetry of the pattern. It helps me to stay calm, outwardly at least. It helps me to not overreact again.

I wish Esme would stop burdening me with her worries. Her constant concern for me is building up in the room like a thick fog. I want to tell her to stop. I want to tell her that Bella is not a disease that has come over me, nothing that can be cured... or should be cured. But I'm afraid to overreact again. So I keep my mind on the leaves and my finger grazing, stem to tip, tip to stem.

Esme's phone buzzes. She answers the call and I hear her say 'yes', and 'oh, good', and I focus even harder on the details in the fabric. Five stitches, each one longer than the one before, up to the middle of the leaf. The sixth one is the longest, and I let my fingertip rest there for a moment before...

"Edward."

… I run it upwards to the tip of the leaf... seven, eight, nine, ten...

"Sweetheart," Esme says, and reaches out for me. Her hand on mine keeps my finger from roaming; her words keep my mind from further obsessing with the needlework. "They are on the way; Carlisle has found her and they will be here in a few minutes."

"Eleven!" I say and breathe a sigh of relief.

.

.

.

(BELLA)

I wish I had asked Carlisle to stop at my place so I could change into something more appropriate. But I just didn't think of that and now it's too late; we're almost there. I'm still in my drugstore gear and yeah... reeking of booze and cigarettes for good measure, and I'm on my way to what must be one of the weirdest impromptu meet-the-parents events in history.

I briefly consider getting rid of the apron, but as silly as that pink thing might be, it somehow gives me strength... a certain sense of dignity. I look down on my name-tag and think, yes that's me, Isabella, making an honest living. So what?

Yes, I'm still in the mood for a decent fight. Even now that Carlisle has filled me in, sort of, on what happened and I know he came to get me because Edward wanted me to be with him so badly, I'm still shaking with anger. I won't let anyone take away or even belittle what is between me and Edward. He had an anxiety attack in front of his parents' house, for Christ's sake. Carlisle has been trying to downplay it, but I have seen Edward in my bathroom. I know what he can be like when he's upset. He doesn't cope well with the situation at all.

I saw it in his face when I left this morning. He looked like he wanted to run after me, and I almost expected him to. I was a little late for work and we said goodbye hastily. Hells, a girl can oversleep after losing her virginity and making love repeatedly for one day and one night in a row, ok? But I should have called the drugstore and said I'd be there a little later. Tanya would have covered me and... ah, shoulda-woulda does no gooda! No use crying over spilt milk. No use pondering on the fact that I look like shit and smell like a trucker bar. This is about Little Green.

And yet I catch myself stealthily trying to smooth my hair, which is completely futile of course. I realize that Edward hasn't really seen me in my best-looking state yet. I've been in my bathrobe, and in jean shorts that should have gone into the laundry long ago. The clothes I whipped on this morning weren't much better. And in between I've just been naked, no make up, bad hair day and all. How could he even...?

I fight back the familiar self-consciousness that suddenly surges up within me. This is not the time! Carlisle has warned me that Esme might be a little upset, so I cling to that newfound rebellious spark that got me going when I saw him at the drugstore. My hand closes around the name-tag above my heart, searching for assurance. This is about Little Green and I will stand my ground.

"You ok?" Carlisle's soft voice kicks me out of my musings. "You're very quiet."

"Yes, I am. Just thinking."

He hums his acknowledgement ... or whatever. Thankfully he doesn't ask what I am thinking about. Then he says, "Here we are." The car stops, and the next thing I know is the passenger door is opened from the outside, and there is Edward.

He takes my hand and like always with him my body follows his pull of its own volition. So unlike my usually clumsy self, I disembark the car gracefully, while I feel like drowning in his green, northern light eyes. In a distant corner of my mind I barely register Carlisle passing us by and murmuring something like, "Don't take too long, kids." Then he is gone, and it's just the two of us.

Edward and I. Little Green and Easybella.

He smiles at me. I love his teeth, they are kind of cute. And his mouth, oh my... Suddenly he bends over a little and sighs, followed by a quiet whimper. Though his smile doesn't falter it sounds as if he is in pain and I grab his arm, alarmed.

"What's wrong, Edward?"

"Nothing. It's just... you're so pretty it hurts."

I blush furiously, and with a dash of embarrassment I turn away from him to fetch my purse out of the car. "Jesus," I chuckle awkwardly, " I'm in my goddamn apron, Edward."

His arms close around my waist from behind; he nuzzles my neck and his breath is leaving goose-bumps in its wake.

"You're in my goddamn soul," he whispers.


	14. Chapter 14

(BELLA)

"We should get inside, Edward." I'd probably come across much more convincing if I wasn't leaning into his embrace like this... if I wasn't tilting my head so he can trail more kisses along my neck, or if I wasn't reaching up to comb my fingers through his hair. But he just told me I am in his soul, so how's that for an excuse?

"You don't mean it," he replies matter-of-factly, pulling me even closer to himself from behind. "And I missed you. So much!"

"I missed you too, but I do mean it. Please let's go inside now." _Before Esme comes out to kill me._

"Ok then... we can go upstairs to my old room, if you'd like?"

I'm enjoying him nuzzling my neck far too much to understand right away what he's really suggesting; it takes me a few seconds, but eventually...

"Edward!" I squirm free and turn around, laughing. "You are such a tease!"

"No, I'm... not," he objects, looking confused. "They won't come in there when the door is closed. They never do."

God, he is serious. And so sweet. I'm this close to giving in and sneaking into his old room with him, just because I hate to disappoint him. And well, maybe also because the idea is really tempting. But of course this is not the time.

"Dinner, with your parents – remember?"

.

.

.

(EDWARD)

Bella is right, of course. Dinner. Yes.

I'm so easily distracted when I'm with her, like nothing else matters but her. And it doesn't even bother me, the chaos she evokes by just being around. I know this is because I am in love; it's what happens to people when they fall in love.  _Head over heels_ , right? My mind is a mess, but it's a beautiful mess... with her around it's beautiful. Also, I know it's supposed to wear off over time, which right now I honestly find very difficult to believe.

Bella doesn't want my arms around her as we go inside, but I keep my hand at the small of her back and she seems to be ok with that. I watch her shaking hands with Esme. My mother's eyes dart back and forth between Bella and me. She looks worried, of course. Always worried, always Esme... but unlike a few minutes ago before Bella arrived, I don't care now. At. All. Her overprotectiveness doesn't upset me anymore.

If anything, it is the prospect of having to endure the family dinner that's bothering me; I'm not hungry and I'm not looking forward to long conversations at the table. That's going to be difficult. Because I'm  _head over heels_. Because I'm still thinking about how to lure Bella upstairs to my old childs room and make love to her as soon as possible. Or at least cop a feel... that's what they call it, right?  _Cop a feel?_

 _Cop. A feel._ That's so funny...

I slowly move my hand at Bella's back a little lower and a little sideways towards the curve of her hip. I squeeze lightly and she flinches, almost imperceptibly. A quiet chuckle escapes me, to my own surprise. I'm pretty sure it's earning me another special look from Esme, but I don't care. I still don't care. I keep staring at Bella's back and the ribbon of her apron. I'd really like to give that one loose end a tug right now, and then maybe...  _Cop. A feel._

I know I'm acting weird. I'm not focused, not 'on track'... and amazingly, I couldn't care less. If Bella hadn't reminded me, I would have forgotten dinner and my parents altogether. I would have acted like a stupid child with no upbringing whatsoever, all social skills and sense of responsibility out the window, and I honestly couldn't care less! Am I being selfish? I just don't care... I am carefree. The thought is hilarious somehow and I laugh out loud.

Oops. All eyes on me.

"What's so funny, darling? Care to share?"

It's Always-Worried-Always-Esme who's asking, clearly confused now.

"I'm sorry... or... no, I'm not." I don't care! What is wrong with me? I guess it's just that... "I'm feeling good, is all." Again, I snort with laughter. They must think I'm not in my right mind.

Esme's face is a battlefield of conflicting emotions, as if she doesn't know herself whether to be amused or irritated. And if she doesn't know herself, then how should I? I quickly avert my gaze; there's no use in even trying to read her. Seems I'm not the only one acting weird today.

.

.

.

(BELLA)

Esme is looking as bewildered by Edward's hilarity as I'm feeling. I have no idea what he can possibly find so funny about this situation. Also, I wish he would stop touching me so conspicuously, while I'm trying to make a reasonably dignified appearance in front of his mom. Who, by the way, is just now scrutinizing me as if I were the one responsible for his out of line behavior. Well, maybe I am, but Jeez...

There's a throat clearing, and from the corner of my eye I see Carlisle stepping up behind Esme. He is smiling as he addresses Edward, "Your mother and I are happy you're feeling good. Well, that was the whole point of my little trip, wasn't it? But now - I don't know about everyone else, but I'm starving, so..."

"Oh, sure!" Esme snaps out of her unusual state of confusion. "Bella, I hope you're hungry? Of course you are, what with my husband kidnapping you right out of work. It looks like he didn't even leave you a chance to change. If you'd like to wash up quickly, the bathroom is... well... still where it used to be – how silly of me! You know where the bathroom is."

Did she just wrinkle her nose? Really? Or did I imagine it?

"I do. Thanks." I say, unable to keep the tinge of acid out of my voice. In reaction to my barely concealed dismay, Edward steps even closer to me and starts rubbing my back. I turn around to him, peel his hand off of me and give it a little squeeze. "I'll be back in a minute," I assure him, just in case he is already contemplating following me to the bathroom.

He gives a nod and smiles at me, seemingly at ease with everything. So I straighten myself, direct a polite smile at both Esme and Carlisle, and then hurry down the hallway to where I remember the small guest bathroom is.

Once I make it inside and bolt the door, I slump down and exhale a long breath. Even though noone did me any harm, I suddenly feel defeated. My pink armor and stitched-on crest have transformed into a cheap apron and a simple name tag again. They've lost their magic power and my morale is oozing away. I feel shabby. I don't belong here. This is going to be a long evening.

.

.

.

(EDWARD)

As soon as Bella is gone, Esme starts to bustle. She ushers Carlisle and me to our places at the round dining table, where she adamantly orders us to sit down side by side. Then she disappears in the kitchen where I can hear her telling Kaure, our Brazilian maid, that we're good to go now. She returns, only to excuse herself once again, saying she'll be right back. And off she goes again. Which leaves me and Carlisle.

This is uncomfortable, and compulsively, I drop my gaze to the table-cloth and start counting leaves and stitches again. In no time, my carefree mood has switched to an unpleasant tension. I really don't want it to be this way. I don't want to feel this way. Carlisle deserves so much better.

It's always been like that, and I never figured out why. Carlisle has always been nothing but kind and patient. Never did he do anything to deserve my irrational rejection. And I know it saddens him. I know. But even after what he did today, I seem to be unable to talk to him.

_Eleven stitches... five up to the middle, each of them a little longer than the one before..._

I WANT to talk to him, but I can't.

 _Take a break at No 6, the longest stitch... breathe.._.

I did talk to him in front of the house though and it was good. It really was.

 _Seven, eight, nine, ten..._  I looked him in the eyes and he understood, and he brought Bella here.

_Eleven... one leaf down... onehundred and nineteen more to go, approximately..._

He brought Bella here, because he understood.

 _One, two, three, four..._  STOP!

Breathe.

Open your mouth and -

And what?

Say something!

What to say?

Doesn't matter. Just speak.

Bella's sandwich trick... don't think...  _ONE_... just count...  _TWO_... and then...  _THREE_... speak:

"Sir, I -"

"Edward..." he stops me with a sigh, but I can hear the smile in his voice. "Do we have to go there again? It's Carlisle, please, not Sir. Alternately, you could call me Dad, but I guess that's out of the question."

"Carlisle." Well, that wasn't too difficult. But his interruption has knocked me off course. I'm stuck again. I curl my fingers into tight fists to keep them from grazing the oh so tempting embroidery, but my eyes are still roaming its perfect and calming order. I need to look at something else. Now.

I turn my head, slowly, and my eyes find the center of Carlisle's chest. Not good enough; I know, I know... He is waiting patiently, like always. He never pushed me; he's always been patient. And he's always been sad.

I lift my head and find my safe spot to look at above his shoulder. It feels like I can't breathe right, like there's not enough air in my lunges to speak. My heart is pounding, and it's like thunder in my ears. All I can manage is a weak whispering, but I say the one thing I truly want him to know.

"Carlisle, I'm really sorry." I take a wheezing breath, and my eyes drop to his chest again.

Carlisle turns on his chair to look at me. "There's nothing to be sorry for, son. I really didn't mind picking up Bella. And it was absolutely my pleasure, I assure you."

He doesn't understand. I need to... "It's not about today." I start feeling dizzy with the lack of oxygen. "It's about everything... all that time... from when you took me in... you and me... I'm sorry."

"Oh God...," he whispers almost inaudibly. Even though I know it's just my messed up breathing, it seems to me that all the air has been sucked out of this room. But I still need to say one thing.

"I want to try... I WILL try to be better, S... Carlisle," I stammer, and I mean it. From the bottom of my heart, I mean it. I want to be better with Carlisle, and I'm starting right now. I force myself to lift my head and face my adoptive father, eye-to-eye.

"Edward," he says. His smile is gone, replaced by an expression I cannot read. I never was any good at reading Carlisle anyway... didn't practice enough. I make it for like five seconds before I have to fixate my gaze on his chest again. Five seconds, that's a start. It's longer than when I did it outside, earlier today. It's not good enough, but it's a start. Breathing gets easier.

Carlisle reaches out with his arm and stops midway, his hands hovering over my shoulder. "Edward, may I touch you?" he asks softly.

I want to be better, so this has got to be a yes. But I'm done speaking; I need to focus on breathing for now, so I can only nod. And then I freeze. Stiff as a statue, I brace myself for his touch. And when it comes, it's as much as I can do to not flinch. Carlisle just puts his hand on my shoulder and lets it rest there for a moment. It's not that bad. Not bad at all. His hand is warm; I can feel it through my shirt.

He gives my shoulder a little squeeze and says, "You have no idea how proud you're making me."

No, I don't. But I remain silent, reveling in the feeling of his hand on me. Its warmth and its weight calm me down a great degree. I never would have guessed.

"You've always made me proud," he adds and squeezes my shoulder once more. "You have gained so much; watching you learn and grow up and become the man you are now was a blessing and pure joy. Don't be sorry, Edward. There's no reason to be. I would do it all again if I was given the choice, and I would love you just the same."

I'm glad he's touching me, so I don't need to look into his eyes or answer him with words. I can talk to him with my body instead. I lift my shoulder and tilt my head until my cheek is resting on Carlisle's hand. This comes surprisingly easy to me.

"I love you, son," he whispers. In reply, I slowly rub my cheek against the back of his hand. He squeezes my shoulder again, I close my eyes, and then we both keep still.

That's how Esme finds us.

.

.

.

(BELLA)

I finally pull myself together and get up from where I've been sitting on the tile floor with my back against the door. I walk over to the sink, peeling myself out of the now useless apron on the way. The liquid soap in the elegant dispenser on the wall smells like vanilla. I remember that smell and how that porcelain thing once made me feel special and elegant myself when I used it. Now it only adds to my feeling of misplacement.

"Nothing wrong with the simple bar of soap in my own bathroom," I assure my reflection in the mirror. "Makes those fingers squeaky clean all the time!" I start washing my hands almost angrily before I splash my heated face with cold water a few times. I'm not wearing make up or mascara or anything, so I don't worry about that.

Looking up, I watch the rivulets drip down off my face and into the sink for a few seconds. I'm about to start episode two of 'Bella Swan: The Mirror Monologues,' but just when I open my mouth, there's a knock on the door, followed by Esme's voice.

"Bella, are you done? Can I come in for a second?"

Well, seems I'll have to get by without giving myself a decent pep talk. "Just a moment, please," I answer and grab a towel to dry off my face. I unbolt the door, and in comes a shy looking Esme, a pile of clothing on her arms. She smiles at me apologetically. There's nothing left of her earlier judging attitude, no more hint of the mild but noticeable resentment towards me.

"I'm sorry, Bella," she indeed apologizes, "I didn't mean to sound so... presumptuous. I was just a little nervous, what with Edward having an anxiety attack and all. It was the first in months, and it was basically because of you, so..."

"That's ok. I think we're all a little nervous, aren't we?"

"Yes."

Esme seems genuinely relieved, and so am I. This is the woman I'm familiar with, the one I used to think of as the mother I didn't have. It's the Esme I like and, more important, the Esme who likes _me_. Within a moment, I feel more comfortable.

"And to be perfectly honest, I'm still surprised how things between you and him have developed so quickly and... so, yes... well, I guess I really  _was_  assuming things, and I'm sorry."

"I would never do anything to harm him."  _I love him._

Esme doesn't look entirely convinced, but she nods her head yes and leaves it at that.

"Look," she says and starts to lay down the clothes she brought on the vanity, "I hope you don't take offense. I just thought, maybe you'd feel more comfortable wearing something fresh for dinner, since my husband apparently didn't think of driving by your place so you could change after your long hours of work. That's why I brought these. You and I are about the same size, so... if you'd like?"

"That's very thoughtful of you, thank you." I have to admit I'd really like to get out of my sweaty t-shirt, the sooner the better. I take a look at the displayed garments; there are a few blouses and even a tailored dress. Everything looks expensive. And very pretty. "Are you sure it is ok for me to borrow your clothes?"

"Absolutely," Esme beams at me, "I'd love for you to wear them. Please take what you like. I'll leave you alone now; I need to check on Kaure... make sure she doesn't mess up our meal. See you in a minute?"

"Sure. Thanks again."

"You're welcome."

I wait until she has closed the door behind her before I dare to inspect the clothes more closely. The dress is really beautiful; it's a black, woolen shift dress with an inserted piece of sheer fabric around the shoulders. Too bad I have to rule it out, but it doesn't exactly match the sneakers I'm wearing.

I choose the blue satin blouse instead, just because I think it's the most casual thing that is there and will look ok with my jeans, too. Sure as hell, it is still a designer piece and handwoven of insanely expensive imported silk, and I just hope I won't spill sauce on it or something. I bolt the door again, strip off my t-shirt and, following a sudden impulse, thoroughly wash my armpits above the sink before I put the blouse on.

It's a very loose fit. About the same size, Esme? Wishful thinking, much? I snicker quietly. But it's incredibly soft on my skin and the color is really pretty and quite flattering. It looks even sexy in a subtle way if I leave the top three buttons open. Nice!

Exited by the idea that Edward would see me dressed well for a change, I feel my confidence rising. I take the brush that's lying on the narrow shelf under the mirror and start working my hair until it's shining. Given I'm in the guest bathroom, I guess it is ok to use the brush. Or is it not? There's a cosmetic purse, too. Maybe Esme has just put things here so she doesn't have to go upstairs every time she needs to freshen up?

Whatever... this is an emergency, sort of. A girl must do what a girl must do, and I'm sure she won't even notice. I open the small purse and look inside. Just like I expected, there's everything a girl needs to do what she must do. But a little mascara is all I take; I don't want to look painted. And well, I don't want Esme to recognize her own lipstick color. Just in case.

When I'm done with my lashes and look at my reflection, I can't help but smile – I'm looking good. A little pale but good. Having a sudden Emily Brontë moment, I pinch my cheeks a few times. I move my face closer to the mirror to check on the effect, but instead of a nice rosy shade I can only see the quickly fading imprints of my thumbs and index fingers. I don't know what disappoints me more – the poor result of it or the fact that all those romantic classics were lying?

Doesn't matter; this is still the best I've looked since Edward's return, and I'm ready for dinner. Thanks, Esme. I fold my shirt and apron and put them on the window sill, making a mental note to not forget them when I'll leave. And now...

Showtime!


	15. Chapter 15

(EDWARD)

She's here. Opposite side of the table, out of my reach. But I don't mind. I'm just so glad that she's here. And this way, I can watch her better. Her hair, her skin, the blush… she's here.

"Edward, darling, eat something." Esme says.

I grab my fork and start coiling up some noodles, but I can't take my eyes off of Bella. It is like she's becoming more beautiful, the longer I look at her. I'm afraid to miss something if I avert my gaze. She's like a blossom unfolding, and I don't want to miss a single second of this mysterious transformation, even though it's probably just something going on in my head. If you love someone they become prettier and prettier in your eyes, I guess. Or is it the other way round?

Luckily, no-one seems to expect me to participate in the conversation. They're not talking about anything important anyway… I think? I tune myself in and there's Bella, answering a question about her job.

"…just temporarily. I needed to do something now that I'm alone, and Mr. Denali mentioned one day that he was looking for someone to help his daughter Tanya at the store, so I asked him and…"

Yes, about her job at the drugstore. I remember Denali's Drugstore from my childhood. There was a girl, too. Tanya Denali. I didn't like her. She once made fun of Bella when we were there. She made fun of her because Bella was with me. That Tanya Denali was a mean person. I need to ask.

"Is she mean to you?"

All heads turn to me, but I only see Bella. I only see Bella's eyes that dart to mine.

"What? Who?"

"Tanya Denali."

"Why… no! She's really nice."

"Good."

Esme gives a nervous laugh. "Edward, why would you think that Tanya is mean to anyone? Do you know her?"

Yes, I do. And I don't like her. But I don't want to ignite any further discussions. "No."

I lower my head and pick at my pasta again, making it quite obvious I'm not going to elaborate on my answer, and after a brief moment of silence, they resume their talk. I tune myself out again. I'm watching Bella. I'm watching her eat and speak and blush and...  _transform_. Can she be any more beautiful? I don't care if this is just a trick my mind is playing on my love-drenched self. I don't want to analyze this; I just want to savour the moment.

From time to time, she looks at me and smiles. Do I smile back at her? I should! But I don't think I manage to answer her smiles with one of my own in time before she looks away again… not even once. I  _feel_  the smile, feel it rise inside of me like the brightness and warmth that washes over you when, on a cloudy day, there's suddenly a breach in the overcast sky. This moment when you feel the sun warming every single cell of your body, and the dull screen of your closed eyelids is suddenly flooded with a soothing, red glow. That sort of smile. I feel it, but I'm afraid it doesn't show on the outside. Or does it? I can't watch myself right now. I'm too stunned, watching  _her_.

She's looking uncomfortable all of a sudden. Is it because I don't smile? Is it because I am staring? Is it me at all? Tuning in…

"…not it! I really  _do_  want to go back to school; I always wanted to work with children."

Bella wants to go to school. She loves children. What school?

"Yes, I remember," Esme says. "You always said you wanted to be a teacher. That's why I was wondering -"

"I can still be a teacher. And I will. I just need to save up some money first."

Why is she so… scared? Defensive? There's something wrong… And money. Is she short of money? Did that Jacob not even take care of  _that_?

"I'm not saying you can't, Bella. I was just wondering how -"

"Esme." It's Carlisle, gently cutting in. "Last time I checked, the Spanish inquisition was already over. Give the girl a break." He takes Esme's hand. "It's a good thing for someone to resume education and follow their dreams, don't you think?"

"Evening classes!" Bella almost shouts. She's angry. And scared. I can't stand it. Esme is pressing her too much. I need to make her stop!

"Esme!" I'm not speaking as softly as Carlisle just did. I'm angry, too. I'm scared, too. I can't help it… "Stop. Now!"

Esme's eyes grow impossibly wide. Bella reaches her hand across the table and whispers, "Edward, it's ok."

But it's not. Not okay. "No! I'm not going to sit here and…"

What is the word? I can't find the word. I can't make it around all the questions that have piled up in my head during the last few minutes to fish the right one out of this pool of words.

"… and… and  _nourish_  this!"

Wrong word. Doesn't matter. I can see I made my point anyway. Esme casts her eyes down and takes a deep breath. Carlisle clears his throat. Bella swallows hard and stares at me. Nobody speaks.

I remember days from my childhood when we all sat at this table, Bella and my parents talking while I kept on word-fishing in my mind. I never really contributed to the conversations because I didn't want to say a wrong word. Those days when Bella had dinner with us were the days when Bella stayed with me until I fell asleep. She was part of the family back then, and I thought it would always be that way.

When did that change? What happened?

Esme looks up at me. She seems hurt, although she's the one hurting Bella. I don't understand her at all. She should feel guilty instead. She should love Bella. She should apologize to Bella.

"I want you to apologize."

Bella gasps. "Edward, really... I don't think..."

"No," Esme cuts in. "Edward is right. That was rude of me. I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to be so pushy, Bella."

"It's fine, Esme, really."

But I can tell it's not. Bella is still looking uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. As if she didn't belong here. She once did belong here. She used to sit at my bedside and read to me until my eyelids became to heavy to keep them open. Sometimes she just held my hand and didn't talk at all. Sometimes she promised me I'd never lose her, that she'd always be my friend.

But I did. I lost her.

_What happened?_

Why did she never call or write or answer any of my messages, so I had to erase her from my memory in order to not lose my sanity? In order to survive?

_What happened?_

Bella leans over the table and takes my hand. "And Edward... "

_What..._

"...you don't need to defend me, ok?"

_...the fuck..._

"Edward?"

_...happened?_

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(BELLA)

O my God, awkward!

I can't believe Edward just made Esme apologize to me. And holy shit, she's really looking guilty. I mean, she  _was_  hostile, sort of. But not  _that_  bad. It's almost like there's more to it than what she said.

Of course she wants to know what I'm going to do with my life, now that Jake is gone and Edward and I are becoming... a thing... or whatever it is she is seeing. That's fine. And I know I'm stalling; the job at Denali's is kind of convenient, and it gives me time to figure things out. It's just a stage of my plan, and I'm not ashamed of what I'm doing. If Esme considers me not good enough for her son, that's fine, too. I will prove her wrong!

But she upset Edward again, and that's not fine at all! One minute he was shaking with anger, and now he kind of zoned out. He's looking right through me, with that Little Green crease between his brows.

"Edward? Are you ok?"

He shakes his head. Then he fixes his gaze back on me, with his pupils dilating and contracting a few times in quick succession, like angry little living beings in ardent pools of green.

"What happened?" he asks.

"Nothing, really - it's fine. We were just talking."

He shakes his head again. "Not that. I mean, what happened? When they sent me to boarding school, why did you never... answer? Didn't you miss me at all? What happened?"

Answer? Answer what? Fuck!

"Of course I missed you," I start, when at the same time Esme speaks up,

"This is quite a topic change, darling, and snows of yesteryear anyway."

Edward doesn't listen to her; his eyes are glued to mine. I don't think he even is aware of his parents' presence anymore. Both his hands are on the table, palms down. His right index finger is grazing the embroidered flower leafs. Other than that, his body is eerily still. "You missed me," he whispers.

"I did," I confirm, "so much. But you never replied to my letters, so I thought..."

"Letters?"

"... you had forgotten me," I finish.

"You wrote me letters!"

What the fuck? "Yes, I did!" Is he telling me he didn't get them? "In the beginning, I wrote you like... once a week? Even though Esme just went to see you monthly. I collected the letters and gave them to her at the end of each month..."

"You gave them to Esme?"

"Yes, of course. She -"  _Oh my God!_ I can see the realization of what this means in his face the very moment it dawns on me too. I can see the devastating effect of this...  _betrayal_  on his face, and I can see disbelief and anger fighting each other.

From the corner of my eye I see Esme stand. "Bella, Edward... this is not -"

Both Edward's fists slam down on the tabletop, making dishes and cutlery jump and clatter. Esme flinches and her hands fly to her mouth. Carlisle stands, too, but doesn't say anything. For the first time, he seems at a loss about what to do. And so am I.

I guess I should be mad at Esme. I guess I should feel sorry for Edward... for  _us_. Or maybe I should be frightened, what with Edward shaking and huffing? Seeing how his anger has clearly gotten the upper hand? But I feel nothing. I'm in a state of shock. All I can think is why in the world would she withhold my letters from him? But Edward has a different question.

"Where?" he growls.

Esme takes a tentative step closer to her son. "Please, Edward, you need to..."

"I want them. Where are they?"

"...understand; it was for your own good. I was just..."

Oh, that's rich! The all-time parental excuse for anything and everything. But it doesn't get her very far. Edward jumps up so suddenly that his chair is knocked over.

"WHERE?" he roars, towering over his mother with his hands clenched into tight fists on either side of him.

"...trying to protect you!" Esme shouts her last words. There are tears in her eyes as she finishes. And finally Carlisle steps in, instinctively reaching out for his son's shoulder. I'm frozen in my place, watching the scene before me like some stage play; I still feel nothing.

I see Edward turn around and lash out at Carlisle, yelling at him to keep his hands off, and I feel nothing. All I can think is that someone - no, not someone... Esme! She stole a big part of my life, of myself from me. When she took those letters, she took away what could have been... all those years... my promise... and Edward, he must have thought... oh God!

"My letters, I want them," Edward hisses. He is holding his hands up in that universal don't-touch-me gesture. His head tilted to one side, he seems to fixate on an invisible point in the center of the room - like a lone fighter encircled by enemies, waiting for the first one to make the slightest move, and ready to attack.

"Give them to him," Carlisle whispers, and Esme nods her head yes as if in trance. "Your room," she says, turning to Edward. "There's a card-box on top of the closet. They are all there; I've kept them all."

Without another word, Edward storms off. This is so fucked up. Suddenly Esme's expensive satin blouse seems to be made of the itchiest wool ever; I want to rip it off of me. And eventually, I find my voice.

"Why did you do that? You had no right to do that!" I accuse.

"It was for his own benefit. I  _had_  to do it; Edward was much too dependent on you. He was obsessed with you, Bella, and he had no chance to adjust to the situation at school like that, or to make new friends. The counselor said, a clean break would be best to make..."

"A clean break?" I yell in utter bewilderment. "You made me look like a liar in his eyes!"

"It wasn't easy for me either, believe me."

I have no response to that. Clearly, she still believes in the rightness and righteousness of what she did. I don't get it. She made Edward believe I had abandoned him; it makes me sick just to think about it.

"Isabella, I think you should follow him. He'll want you by his side now." Once again, it is Carlisle who just always seems to know what's the right thing to do. Esme looks at him, shaking her head no. But really... I don't give a shit whether she approves of it or not. I snatch my purse and stand. The last thing I see before I leave the room is Carlisle taking her in his arms. He mouths 'go!' to me. Esme slumps against him, defeated, and sobs into his chest. I don't give a shit...

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The door to his old room is ajar. Edward is sitting on the edge of the bed, with his head hanging. There's a bundle of envelopes in his hands. I can see they're unopened, about twenty-five, maybe thirty letters, held together with a red satin band. The way she kept those letters safe... pretty box, tiny bow and all... it would be endearing if she hadn't done it for all the wrong reasons.

I walk over and stop right in front of him; he doesn't look up. I don't know if he wants me to touch him or not. He seems calm again, but maybe he needs some distance right now. I wait a few moments, but he doesn't move.

"So you found them," I say.

He slowly nods his head. Ok... no words then. I reach out and gently stroke his hair, relieved when he doesn't flinch.

"Don't you want to read them?"

He answers with a shrug. Not indifferent, just undecided. Then his shoulders rise and fall with a long sigh. Yes, he's undecided. And there's more; he is... scared?

"Are you afraid to read them?"

He swallows hard and gives another nod. He lets go of the letters and they land in the open card-box at his feet with a quiet thud. There are three more such bundles in it. I don't remember having written so many letters before I finally gave up hope, convinced that after all, the old saying 'out of sight, out of mind' applied to my Little Green, too.

"You don't want to talk, huh? Do you want me to leave you alone?"

He takes my hands and pulls me closer until I straddle his thighs. He wraps his arms around my waist and buries his face in the crook of my neck. I lay my cheek on top of his head and hug him back. We stay like that for a little while, silently mourning the loss of whatever might have been between us if those letters had reached their destination. We will never know. And somehow I feel like I betrayed him just as much as Esme did. Because I stopped writing him. And worse, because I actually stopped thinking of him after a while. Out of sight, out of mind... that was me, not him. He was a kid, for crying out loud. I shouldn't have stopped trying.

Edward inhales deeply, then he suddenly pulls back, scrunching up his nose.

"What?" I say, startled at the sudden movement and the disgusted expression on his face.

With a growl, he starts tugging angrily at the hem of Esme's blouse, pulling it out of the waistband of my jeans and further up. Ok, I get it. Apparently it doesn't smell right on me... apparently he doesn't want to smell Esme right now... or maybe ever again. I lift my arms and he tears the thing off of me so impatiently that one or two buttons bite the dust.

Once the offending piece of clothing is gone and I am left in my simple white cotton bra, Edward enfolds me in his arms again and nuzzles my cleavage with a contented sigh. My hands are back in his hair before I know it. "Better?" I ask him quietly. And this time, I get a spoken answer... kind of.

He whispers my name, my  _special_  name. "Easy," he says. "Easy-Easy-Easybella..." My breath hitches as he starts peppering kisses on my boobs where they aren't covered by the bra. With one hand on my behind, he pulls me closer on his lap. "Easybella... Bella... need you, my Bella..."

"Edward, what -"

He grabs my right wrist and pulls my hand down between us until my palm lies on the considerable bulge in his jeans. "Need you," he repeats.

I whimper quietly; this is so...  _oh, fuck!_ Encouraged by my reaction, he starts to fumble with the clasp of my bra. Without thinking, I reach behind me to help him. It's only when the bra joins Esme's blouse on the carpet that I remember where we are, and that the door to his room is still ajar and... _oh, fuck!_

"Edward, we can't! Not here... your parents!"

He looks at me, confused for just a moment. Then he takes my arms and puts them around his neck. I hold on to him as he gets up, lifting me as if I weighed nothing, and walks to the door. I wrap my legs around his waist; he supports me with one arm while he uses the other to close the door and lock it. And then my naked back meets the door and Edward's lips meet mine.  _Fuuuuck!_

How the hell does he do that?Kissing him like this, with my body pressed against his, sets my inside on fire in no time. We have been together just this morning, but apparently the more you get, the more you want. He has awakened a hunger I didn't know I had in me, a hunger only he can appease.

He breaks the kiss and looks at me, breathing heavily through parted lips. I can see lust and adoration in his eyes. And a hint of despair, too. He needs to know, to feel that I am here with him. He needs reassurance. And I need to get my hands on him. Everywhere on him...

I shove my fingers under the hem of his shirt and let them roam his silky skin. Oh my God, he feels amazing... his small hips and waist, the toned stomach. My thumbs caress the bows of his lower ribs and then graze the soft path of hair down from his belly button to where it vanishes in the waistband of his jeans.

He sighs and lets his forehead sink against mine. I repeat my movements a few times, sliding both thumbs up to his belly button again and then down as far as they get. Then I feel his fingers dig into my behind; he lifts me off of him and puts me on my feet.

I lean back against the door and watch him strip off his shirt in that odd manly manner... reaching over his shoulders with both arms, grabbing two fistfuls of fabric to pull it over his head and in front of his chest and then shrugging out of the sleeves.

I smile at him. My beautiful man. And he smiles back at me, despair gone for the moment. All that is left is the lust and the adoration. I swear I could orgasm just from the way he looks at me, and then...  _oh God_  – he gets on his knees right in front of me and buries his face in my jeans-clad lap. And when he moans my name, my juices start to flow as if someone has flicked a switch.

This time, a not so quiet moan escapes me. I'm almost sure his parents can hear me, but I can't hold it in. And I don't mind. For all I care, shall Esme hear it and learn that she couldn't prevent  _this_... that she couldn't prevent the love!

Edward starts unbuttoning my jeans, breathing deeply through flared nostrils with a rapt expression on his face. I know he likes the way I smell down there when I'm aroused. He told me so last night. And when I laughed and asked him whether he gets paid for telling me shit like that, he didn't get my sarcasm. He means it. And right now, as he pulls my jeans and panties down my legs with that look on his face... fuck, I like my own smell, too.

He holds my pants and shoes down as I step out of them, and then he tosses it all aside. "Need you..." he whispers once more, looking up at me, and starts to unbuckle his belt. I get weak in the knees, suddenly grateful for the solid door behind me.  _'Yes!'_ , I think. And _'Oh God!'_ , and then it hits me.

"Edward, we don't have a condom!"

He stops opening his pants and grabs my hips instead. He bends forward and starts kissing my belly. My eyes flutter close for a moment at the sensation. My hands are at the back of his head already, raking through his hair. How can he get me so worked up so quickly? This can't be normal!

"Edward, did you hear me?" I ask with my last bit of resistance.

He lifts his head just long enough to give me a nod, and then his mouth is right  _there_. And his tongue, licking, circling, teasing r _ight there!_  "Ohhh..." is all I can utter; it's almost a cry. And fuck, that was loud, wasn't it? My knees almost give way for real now. My legs start shaking; this is just too good. But I don't know if I can stand this way. I want to give him better access, I want his head between my thighs... want to hold it there, I... fuck – I want to grind my clit against his face!

I have no idea where  _that_  came from, but I moan loudly at the thought and God help me, I'm already close. But I can't spread my legs. I feel like I can barely hold myself upright. Edward notices my distress and pulls away.  _No!_

"Please don't stop, don't stop..." I pant, not giving a shit about how whiny I sound, or if anyone can hear me. Even though I still clutch at his hair, Edward manages to bend sideways and away from me. In my near-orgasm haze I watch incredulously as he quickly pulls the wooden chair from under the nearby desk, turns it around with one swift move of his arm and shoves it next to me against the door. He takes my right hand and puts in on the backrest. "Hold on," he says, a little breathlessly. Then he gently lifts my right knee, places my foot on the seat and looks at me questioningly.

 _What?_ I'm too stunned to say anything.

He takes my left arm by the wrist and lays his cheek into my palm. "Bella?"

 _Oh God, what?_ I want to say something like  _'Ok, yes, yes, this is ok, great idea!'_ But all I can manage is a toneless "Please..."

He lets go of my wrist and covers my hand in his. He interlaces our fingers and brings both our hands to the back of his head. He looks into my eyes one more time, and when I think I can't stand it any longer, he moves...  _we_  move, our joined hands pressing his head between my welcoming thighs, together... guiding his mouth back to where I need it and holding it there, with gentle force... together.

I cry out in pleasure. I'm loud. I'm loved. I'm all woman, and I'm wanted.

And when I'm dancing on the edge of my release, ready to let go... when I squeeze his hand so tightly that my knuckles get white... he squeezes it back, telling me that when I fall, he will catch me.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! You might not want to read this!
> 
> This isn't an ordinary chapter, just a VERY short glance into that card box; you know which one.  
> There is no happy here, no entertainment and no present time Edward/Bella interaction to counterpoint the angst neither.  
> I assure you, you won't miss anything pivotal if you skip this; we all know by now they missed each other even without reading any of those letters, right?  
> If you don't deal well with unresolved angst in a fic, I suggest saving this one for when chapter 17 will be up as well, so you won't be left hanging and your reading experience will end with something sweet. Or just skip it altogether. Sorry, don't mean to scare you. It's just that I cried writing this, k?
> 
> Errors and flow in Edward's letters is intentional. More about that and answers to some question from your reviews in my E/N at the end.
> 
> (Note: Edward was eleven years old when those letters were written)

INSIDE THE CARD BOX

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_Easybella did you not read my letters why are you too busy? Esme said you are very busy. I asked her and she said you are ok, just busy I was very happy to hear that. I had a nightmare the other night you fell down a cliff and into the water and I called and called and begged and cried really a lot of words. I used a lot of words in that dream but you never came up again. And I know you fall a lot so I was afraid you didn't answer my letters yet, you could have been dead! I'm happy you are ok. I wish you were here, so bad. I know you said I would make friends but don't be mad, I don't want friends I want you. I miss you don't you miss me too. Please don't be mad please write me back. Please, friends forever, E (your little green)_

_._

_._

_._

Bella Swan  
775 K St.  
Forks, WA 98331

October 5th, 2005

My dear little Green,

Like every first Monday of the month, I called your mom first thing after school. And like every time before, she had nothing for me – no letter, no note, no word from you, nothing. I don't get it; what have I done to you? Are you mad at me? Is it because I wasn't there to say good-bye to you? You know I wanted to come, right?

I can only say it again: It was a misunderstanding. I was so damn sure that Esme had said Tuesday, and I had it all planned out, asked my dad to drive me over and everything. But when I arrived at your family's house Monday afternoon, there was only Carlisle who told me you and your mom had left in the morning. I still don't know how and why I messed up with the date; I will be forever sorry about that.

But I really hope it's not the reason you don't write me back.

Esme keeps telling me the same things, like that you're just having a hard time adjusting at school and learning, that your mind is occupied with other things. She keeps telling me that you need time, that you haven't forgotten me and that I shouldn't be too disappointed and such. So I try to be patient.

I know, I really know, it must be difficult for you there, and I don't want to push you. I understand that. I'm just thinking of you a lot and I'm a bit worried about you. I have tons of questions, and Esme answers them the best she can, I guess. But I'd really like to hear from you some time. How are you doing? Do you like the place? And Esme told me about your special music classes; are you enjoying yourself? I'm so proud of you! Always told you you're a musical genius, remember? Oh, how I'd love to hear you play the piano...

Also, how are the other kids? Do they speak? Any little chatterboxes like you around? Did you make friends yet? I really hope so, because you deserve a million friends! No wait, I'm just kidding! Too many friends can be pretty scary, right? But one or two, maybe? Remember when I told you to pay attention to the other kids' faces, especially the silent kids? Watch out for smiles or brief glances in your direction. And don't be afraid; you don't need to talk to them, just smile back for starters. You can do it!

And maybe you find someone to play music with you, wouldn't that be great? I miss our singing together, and reading, and oh well, I just miss you. Will you be home for Thanksgiving? I am supposed to visit my mom in Phoenix, but maybe I'll just stay in Forks so I can come over and we can spend some time together. I will ask Esme about it.

I wanted to email you via the school's email address, hoping they would pass it on to you. But then I thought it's not such a good idea. It sucks that you don't have a private addy there.

Anyway, don't worry about me, I'm fine. Nothing really new or exciting at my end. Two days ago, I had another 'date' with your dad in the ER. I fell and sprained my ankle, but it isn't very bad. You know me.

Oh, wait – I didn't tell you, I HAVE A CAR NOW! How cool is that? It's old, VERY old, but it's so awesome being able to drive myself. My dad bought it from my friend Jacob's dad. If you come home on Thanksgiving, and if your parents allow me, I'll give you a ride.

Ok, I'll stop for now. I don't know if there'll be more letters before Esme's next visit this time. Maybe I should leave it at one? Give you a little space, as they say? Just take your time; I still hope to hear from you whenever you're ready. Just know I'm here for you if you need me. Whatever it is, share a laugh, ease any trouble, advice, questions, anything. Ok?

Friends forever!  
Holding you tight, in my heart and mind,  
your Easybella

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_Easybella when you get this can you please write me back? I'm sorry if I hurt you I don't know what to do. Please please talk to me! I asked Esme to bring you next time she comes. Please say yes! I also asked her to talk to your dad just in case he won't let you. I know he doesn't like me because I'm weird, and he has a gun and tries to be scary. But Esme is not afraid of him so don't worry about that just please say yes say yes. Having nightmares again, many. Please Easybella friends forever! E (your little green)_

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October 12th, 2005

P.S.  
I asked your mom about Thanksgiving today, and she said that you and your parents will be at your grandparent's in Chicago. I'm very sad that we won't see each other, but you'll have a good time with your family and your grans will spoil you rotten, turkey and cake and cookies!

Speaking of, I thought I'd bake some cookies for you and give them to Esme with this letter. Maybe our special 'Knights with Spades', you know, the ones with the peanut butter chips inside. What do you think, would you like that?

Oh boy, I wish I could talk to you. I wish I could touch you. How is the sleeping going? Nightmares still in check? Sure there is someone you can call at night, just in case? If you were here right now, I would hug the shit out of you! Write me if you feel like it, spider monkey, ok?

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_Easybella when you read this I think you've heard it from Esme already. She was very upset, everyone was very upset with me. But please not you ok? I promise I won't run away again! I will be good and stay here even if I don't know how. I didn't really plan on going to Forks, I wouldn't know how to do it. I made it to a bus stop but it was so dark and when a bus came I hid behind the shelter and stayed there all night. I just wanted everyone to see that I can't do this any longer and to see I'm serious so maybe they would finally send me home you know? But don't tell Esme! She was so upset, the nurse who talked to her on the phone said so. And the policemen who found me also said I had caused her big concern one looked very much like your dad. I don't want to upset anyone please can you not write me back Easybella? I cry a lot at night all the crying makes me sick. I don't understand how can you be too busy to write me. Are you really ok? I'm not. Please write. E (little green)_

_._

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_._

October 30th, 2005

P.P.S.  
Sorry, I didn't make the cookies. Next time, maybe. Why don't you make a list of your favorite cookies for me, and I'll bake them? Do you think you could do that? Just the list, and maybe say hi to me and tell me how you're doing; that would make me so happy. Please? I'm thinking of you, little Green, always. I will get this letter to your mom now. Have a nice weekend.

Friends forever!  
Your Easybella

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.

.

_Easybella are you mad at me? Esme is here and you are not and I'm not stupid something is wrong. Please why don't you talk to me any more, I'm so sick they say I'm homesick, like many kids who come here. But I'm not homesick at all, I'm Easybellasick it hurts so bad. Have you forgotten me? I tried to call you but I'm still scared on the phone couldn't get a word out when your dad picked it up, I just couldn't so sorry Easybella. I'm not good enough I know I'm weird and don't speak enough and don't understand enough, maybe you are happy I'm gone. But I learn a lot, I can be better! I'm getting new medicines to make the sadness and the nightmares go away but they don't work just make me tired. I'll stop writing you if you want me to, I'm so tired I need to sleep now. Miss you so much my head hurts all the time. I'm sorry if I did anything wrong what did I do? E_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A word about the way Little Green writes.
> 
> We all know he is extremely intelligent, and he's always been a smart kid, even at the age of eleven. I'm not implying here that people with autism or Asperger's aren't capable of writing correctly!  
> I get reviews and mails from quite a few adults with Asperger's; some of them write absolutely perfect grammar and punctuation, some of them write like Little Green did here, or similar.
> 
> I decided to make his writing a little messy, given that he's only eleven, very sad and desperate and not used to express his inner turmoil with words yet, so...  
> to all my precious readers who are personally concerned with any form of autism: You humble me all the time with your words, and I hope you know I didn't mean to disrespect or offend anyone.  
> Also, you know present time Little Green; he's come a long way since then! :)


	17. Chapter 17

(NEW ENGLAND, Dec 2005)

The dining hall was dangerous ground for Edward. It was huge, loud and confusing. No order. And it was crowded, a vast area filled with Others. They had told him that he would be among peers at Glenholme Boarding School, 'among his equals'. But they had been wrong. He was nothing like those kids around him; they were just Others.

They were noisy and cheerful. It was nauseating. The laughing, the squealing, dishes clanking on trays, rubber soles squeaking on the wooden floor, and the non-stop talking... it all fused into the same meaningless mash of noise he remembered from those times in other institutions and foster homes.

Once more, he was among Others, just like the times before Esme had come to take him home and told him that this time, it was for good. Just like the times before Esme had given him Easybella and he had learned the real meaning of the word 'home'; he was feeling homeless now. It was a broken promise all over again.

Edward knew it was his own fault. He knew that he was here to learn how to be like Them. And he tried really hard, thinking that if he'd be good maybe they would allow him to leave.

Maybe if he smiled enough, or joined more of their silly games, then the teachers would certify him trained and ready to go home.

Maybe if he spoke in complete sentences all day, Easybella would talk to him again.

So he kept trying. The teachers were nice and patient; they didn't force him. He was even allowed to keep his communication cards, although they assured him that he didn't need them. Which was true, in a way. He barely ever used them any more. He just had nothing to say.

Yet everyone at Glenholme seemed convinced he would get there. They never got tired of telling him that he was doing great, cheering upon every single word he uttered and every facial expression he mimicked. But deep inside, Edward knew he was just pretending, and a niggling feeling of failure had grown to be his constant companion.

He was nothing like those kids and would never be - a fact that was never more evident than during those noisy lunch times. But every single day, he still kept on trying to learn how to be better... at pretending.

Right now though, he needed a break. Next to his untouched meal, Edward let his head sink onto his folded arms on the table and closed his eyes. Deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of his mind he descended, until nothing was left but a soothing grey mist and silence.

There he waited.

.

.

.

(EDWARD)

We need more condoms. I hate not being able to be with her the way I want to be, the way I need to be. But I love that I can give her pleasure. I love tasting her pleasure. It's on my tongue, it's all over my face... sweet, sticky pleasure... sweet Bella making sweet noises, each of her moans and groans coursing through my body like shock waves.

I love the way her pleasure tastes and sounds and feels. I love the pain on my scalp where she is clutching at a fistful of my hair, like she's afraid I would stop before she's got there. As if I could...

I won't stop until she tells me to. I won't stop as long as her body says yes, a thousand times yes!

And she is all Yes, my Bella. She's all Yes and More in my mouth, all Please and Harder in my hands. It's impossible to determine which one of us is in control; I feel weak and powerful, and I'm loving it... so, so much! I feel like I'm giving and giving, yet I'm receiving more than I give. I feel like I'm coming, but I'm not. I feel like I could go on and on like this.

But she starts to fall.

Her legs quiver and she takes in big, loud gulps of air, almost like sobs. She inhales and inhales... three, four, five times... and I don't stop, I don't stop. I lick and taste and drink my Easybella. And then her knees give way and she falls.

My mouth is empty all of a sudden, and there's the loud clatter of the chair knocked over. Her body all but melts and flows down on me like a warm, silky fluid. Her fingers slip out of my hair and her hands limply fall onto my shoulders. She glides down between my arms and sinks onto her knees and slumps against me, with her face nestled in the crook of my neck. And when she finally exhales, it is a long, muffled cry against my skin.

I hold her shaking form, with my face buried in her hair, and I want to cry because the beauty of this moment is almost too much to bear. There's one single thought inside my head, repeating itself over and over... one elating, hurting, happy-sad thought that rips me open and leaves me bleeding here on the floor, while I'm holding my Easybella - my life - in my arms...

She missed me while I was gone.

She missed me while I was gone.

She missed me while I was gone.

It's true. I know, it is.

"I missed you too, Bella," I whisper against her temple.

And then I cry.

.

.

(NEW ENGLAND, Dec 2005)

It was the color of her hair that caught Edward's eye first, those dark brown locks with a few mahogany lights where the sunbeams coming through the roof windows impinged on them.

He had just entered the main building of the Center of Arts, when he saw the girl and froze. He momentarily forgot to breathe. Also, he immediately forgot why he had come here, even though his piano classes were the one thing here at Glenholme School he was usually looking forward to. Edward outright forgot about everything.

The brown-haired girl slowly walked down the hallway, with her back to him. Her head was turning to and fro as she passed along and read the signs on the doors on either side of the corridor, searching for something... or someone.

'Here', Edward thought, 'I'm here!' Then he remembered that he needed to breathe in order to speak. So he sucked in some air and...

"Easybella!"

It was merely a whisper.

Unsurprisingly, she couldn't hear him. Edward could hardly hear himself over the thundering of his heart. He had practiced so hard, and now that she was finally here, his voice simply refused to be obedient to him.

"Over here," he breathed desperately, while she kept on walking into the wrong direction. 'Sentences', he reminded himself, getting annoyed with his own lack of concentration, 'complete sentences!'

"I am here, Easybella. Please turn around," he tried again, but only managed a feeble whimpering. So he did the only thing he could think of. He dropped his bag and, pulling all his strength together, he ordered his shaking legs to move.

When he crashed into the girl's back and threw his arms around her skinny waist from behind, he knew right away that something was wrong. He knew it before she gave that piercing scream and lashed out blindly. He knew it before she turned around and stared in shock at him with those watery, blue eyes. He knew it even before he heard one of the Others yell, "Miss Meyer, Edward just touched Jessica without asking permission!"

Right before he passed out on the floor of the Center of the Arts' hallway, he knew that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

But when he woke up to the hushed voice of the school nurse talking to his mom on the phone, he couldn't remember what it was, or why he was lying there on the cot in the first place. The only thing bothering him was that he apparently had missed his piano lesson. Other than that, he was just fine. Actually, he felt better than he had in a while. He couldn't understand why everyone was in such a flurry.

He behaved himself perfectly during the following examination, and when they asked him whether he was feeling better, he nodded his head yes and forced a timid smile onto his face like a good boy.

Everyone was relieved.

In the weeks and months to come, Edward surprised his teachers by making great progress learning and adjusting. He was coming on in leaps and bounds. He still had trouble bonding with other kids, but he adapted some valuable social skills. And though he only spoke if absolutely necessary or when he was told to, his use of the spoken word improved remarkably.

Everyone was pleased.

He was coming along so well that no one even tried to get to the bottom of the so-called 'Jessica Incident'. Everyone forgot about it, even Edward himself. He kept on trying really hard to get better and better at... pretending. Because deep down in his heart, he knew it was very important.

He just couldn't remember the reason why any more.

.

.

.

(EDWARD)

Truth is easy; pretending is so much harder, isn't it?

We both know the truth now. That's a good thing. No matter how hard one pretends, it doesn't change the truth. Even if someone steals the truth from us and we can't see it and believe otherwise - what's true, remains true. That's a good thing. But the fact that truth can be taken away in the first place... that's pretty scary.

I wish, Bella would say something. She's so quiet all of a sudden. I've only cried a little; she didn't even notice. Just a few salty drops into her hair...

Maybe I should say something? She likes it when I talk. It's important to her. Complete sentences! But where to start? Truth is easy... easy, easy, Easybella. We both know the truth now; we won't lose it again. Complete sentences!

One... two... three...

"I love you, Bella."

Truth is easy.


	18. Chapter 18

(BELLA)

_...ok... I think I can breathe again now. Yes, it works. Oxygen... ok, ok... holy shit! Now to remember how to use my limbs. Or not. It's perfect bliss, being held like this. I feel so safe right now; it's ok to be weak for a few minutes, right? Just a few more minutes... just a moment... just...mmh..._

…

"I missed you too, Bella."

I come back to my senses with a start. Damn, I think I drifted off to sleep for a second here. Not good! I need to stay awake... prepare for the walk of shame. I'm definitely not looking forward to it.

Did he just say something? Something about missing me - what does he mean? He missed me today? Or is he talking about the last eight years? Did he... fuck! Was he thinking of me all those years? The thought makes my heart clench. He never got my letters; I still can't wrap my head around it.

We need to talk.  _Come on, Bella, get a grip!_ Also, I should put my clothes back on. Jesus, I can't believe we just did this, in his parents' house! Oh, little Green...

But before I can think of something to say, or even move my pinkie, he takes my breath away once more. I swear, the man is giving me heart palpitations. His voice is firm and clear, his breath hot in my hair...

"I love you, Bella."

_Oh God, I love you too._

I do. There's no denying it, no matter how crazy this is. It's been what... 48 hours since he came back? This is madness, but I love him. I've never felt this way before, but it's true I'm in love! It's like he said: you just  _know_  when it happens. And I do.

And it's not because he just worshipped my body, no post-orgasmic delusion. I just know I love him. This cannot be explained, nor does it need explanation. It's just the fucking truth - the wonderful, scary, crazy, mind-blowing fucking truth.

"Bella?"

_I love you, little Green._

Maybe the letters did it for me, I don't know. He never got them. And he missed me. There's a box full of love and truth which Esme, damn her, denied us. Why? And why didn't she just destroy them? Why keep them all those years?

"Are you ok, Bella?"

_Why yes, I am. More than ok. I love you!_

He shifts a little, and I notice I am clinging to him like a drowning woman. My fingers dig into his upper arms so hard that my fingertips are getting numb. I'm probably hurting him. I need to fucking relax and say something. I need to say...  _it!_  Out loud.

I loosen my death-grip and open my eyes for the first time since he, well... tongue-fucked me senseless.

_In his parents' house!_

I'm still cradled in his arms with my face against his chest. I won't feel comfortable looking him the eye when I say the words, I think. Maybe it is because I'm completely naked while he's still wearing his jeans. Or maybe I just need to be held. Or maybe it just doesn't matter. Whatever... this is it; I will tell him.

"Edward, I... I..."

God, why is it so hard? He already said it twice, and I royally messed it up the first time. Is he ready to hear it?

"You're ok, right? I didn't hurt you or anything?" he asks again. _Jesus Christ..._

"God yes, I am... I feel amazing... what you just did was... I have no words, Edward."

He nuzzles my hair, and I feel him smile against my scalp. He  _is_ ready. And I'm ready to say it. It's now or never!

I open my mouth to speak, but again he cuts in, "You know, I think we need more condoms."

"Ah, yes?"  _What the fuck?_

"Yes. It was very unfortunate that I couldn't be inside you," he elaborates. "I wanted it so badly."

I wiggle myself free and finally straighten up to look at him. "Unfortunate?"

He smiles at me sweetly. "Yes. You wanted it too; it was such a pity. I'm still hard for you. If we had a condom now, we could make love like we did at your place. Be really close, right?"

"Uhm..." I stare at him incredulously, while he starts stroking wayward strands of my hair out of my face with his index finger. He doesn't tuck them behind my ear though; they fall back immediately. He seems to enjoy repeating the gentle gesture over and over.

After a few seconds I have enough. Eventually snapping out of my momentary stupor, I reach up to secure those obstinate locks behind my ears myself. His smile doesn't falter for one second. God, he is so beautiful! Of course, he steals my line before I can say anything.

"You're so, so beautiful, Bella. I can't stop looking at you. Well, I guess I could, but I don't want to. I want to look at you all day. Look at you, feel you, smell you, be close to you. I don't mean to sound... I don't know, weird? Scary? Hells, no! I do not scare you, right?"

I slowly shake my head no. Jesus, did he swallow some prattle pills or something? By Little Green standards, this is a severe episode of word vomit. Amazing!

"Ok, good," he chuckles. "I know about those creepy... persons who... you know, those sneakers. No, that's not the right..."

He closes his eyes in concentration. I know that look; he is word-fishing. I wait a few moments before I offer, "Stalkers?"

He eyes fly open. "Yes, that's it!" And again with the smile. I'm melting a little inside.

"Because I really don't want to be stalker-ish or something. I don't want to scare you. But I want to be with you as much as possible, now that I have you back. I want to learn everything about you, Bella. I feel like I missed so much. You were married and he wasn't treating you right. It kind of makes me angry. I don't even want to think about it, but I think about it quite a lot."

His hands come to rest on either side of my neck as he is talking. Still somewhat electrified from the sex, as well as from my epiphany moment, I am hyper-aware of his touch. The heels of his hands on my collarbones, his fingertips on my neck and his thumbs caressing the sensitive dents right under my ears... light as feathers, but the feeling is so intense I want to purr.

"Edward..."

"Also, I didn't know you wanted to be a teacher. There's so much I don't know. And I'm sorry that I panicked today. But I'm glad Carlisle brought you here. I'm really, really glad. Glad is such a... it's an inappropriate word, but you know what I mean, right? Yes, you know."

He is unstoppable! I wonder if he still has his Chatterbox shirt. He seems to not hear me at all. He doesn't even look me in the eye but watches his thumbs on my jaw instead... which is kind of hot, to be perfectly honest. I feel my love for him increase tenfold, if that's even possible.

"Esme thinks that I'm much too... with you, you know, like I'm suffocating you. But she's wrong, isn't she? Or am I? Suffocating, I mean? Bella, I can step back a little, if you want me to. But... I don't care what Esme is thinking, I only care about what  _you_  are thinking. Esme? She doesn't know anything."

"Edward, I..."

"I mean, if she thinks it was for my own good to keep you away from me? How could she even... she doesn't know anything. It all came back to me when we arrived on Saturday and I saw you again and you called me Little Green. Bella, I missed you so much it made me sick. They had to feed me medicine because of that. You didn't get my letters either, so you didn't know. How could missing you that much be for my own good?"

"God, Edward..."  _He had been sick? And he had written letters, too?_

"I know, right? And one day I thought I saw you when I went to my music class. But it wasn't you and I couldn't deal with it any more. I somehow... snapped. And after that it was as if you'd never existed. I remember it all now; it was a trick my mind played on me, a protective... thing. I didn't want to forget you, I swear. I didn't want to forget who I was... and my secret name. But it just happened."

"I love you, Edward."  _There you go._

"I know, right? It was like a fire-wall, and I didn't even remember what was behind it. All my Easybella data was gone. But now we have our letters back. I do want to read them, but I want to read them together with you. I want to know everything, and I want you to know everything, too. I learned a lot at Glenholme, even though I was sick. In the beginning I was learning for you, did you know that? Probably not. But I did. And even after..."

"Edward!"  _Listen to me, little Green._

"...I lost you to the dark at the bottom of my mind, the reason why I kept on learning was still you, I think, even though I didn't know it any more then. The girl's name was Jessica. I remember everything now. I touched her because I thought it was you; she was..."

_Jesus Motherfucking Christ! Who are you, and what have you done to Edward?_

"...freaking out. I never..."

I grab his shoulders. "Edward...  _little Green -_  I love you!"

His eyes snap to mine. "... got to... I never... ah..."

He gives a loud gasp, almost like a cry of pain, and his tirade comes to an abrupt halt. Actually, all of Edward comes to a halt. His body goes completely rigid. He even has stopped breathing. I'm getting a little worried here. Maybe I shouldn't have...? But there's no going back now.

"Edward," I say softly, "I am your person, and I love you."

His gaze becomes unfocused - fuck, he is looking right through me. What have I done? This is bad! His lips are moving as if he's saying something, but no sound emerges from them. He blinks a few times and finally, thank God, he resumes breathing. Or rather panting.

I'm not taking chances! "You said I would just know if I loved you, remember? You were right, Edward. I guess I never loved before, not like this. But I know now that I do love you." I guess it's my turn to word-vomit now.

But whatever... it seems to work. His green eyes are focusing again, and my heart beats so loudly, it might burst through my chest any second. Fortunately, it doesn't. Because in a blink, I'm suddenly enveloped in Edward's arms. He's holding me so tightly, he's almost crushing me, moaning and panting against my neck.

I can hardly breathe, not only with the force of his embrace, but also with the onslaught of emotions. I can't even tell happy from sad; it's so overwhelming that I don't know whether to laugh or cry or scream. I just hug him back with all I have.

After a while, his breathing becomes a little less labored. His lips are moving against my skin, alternately kissing my neck and whispering something I don't understand. And at last, when I manage to make out what he's saying, my thoroughly spent body and my almost-bursting heart make a decision for me and settle on option number two. I cry.

It feels good. I just let the tears fall. They run down my face and into Little Green's hair, while I'm sniffling and smiling and listening to the muffled words he's repeating over and over again.

"... yes... yes... a thousand times yes..."

_._

.

(BELLA, a little later...)

I don't know how much time has passed. It could be minutes. Or an hour. He has stopped chanting those words but hasn't let go of me for one second. I might or might not have fallen in and out of slumber in his arms a few times; I don't know. We are still on the carpet, lying on our sides now... intertwined like a human pretzel.

No words have been spoken yet. We're both fine with that. Right now, words don't matter. There are occasional sighs to ease the tension when the chest threatens to become too tight with emotion. And soft moans too, at fingers grazing skin or raking through hair. There are even quiet chuckles we just cannot keep in when the feeling of joy is coming in waves, rising inside of our bodies like bubbles in a glass of champagne, and just as much intoxicating.

I hear footsteps outside, ascending the stairs. That is Esme - I can tell by the sound of what must be expensive designer shoes on the wooden steps. Is she coming to check on us? We've been inside this room for quite a while. Well, this is going to be interesting, should she decide to come in. I'm still naked.

Edward has noticed her, too. He props himself on one elbow and throws a quick glance over his shoulder. Apparently satisfied to see that the door is still locked and additionally somewhat blocked by the fallen chair, he turns his head back to me and smiles.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, just as there's a gentle knocking at the door.

"You too," I whisper back.

He lays his palm on my cheek, but I take his hand and bring it to my mouth to kiss his knuckles. His smile widens to its full, dazzling glory. He is breathtaking.

Another knock on the door. And then Esme's voice, shyly, "Eward? Is everything alright?"

His smile disappears. But he doesn't take his eyes off of mine as he answers, his voice loud enough for his mother to hear.

"Go. Away."

I hold my breath. After a few moments of silence, Esme leaves without saying another word, the clacking of her heels fading as she slowly descends the stairs. I exhale in relief.

Edward still looks at me, unmoving. I think it's time for me to leave this place. Maybe I can get out of here without running into Esme or Carlisle. Since they probably know all too well what has happened in this room, I have no wish whatsoever to face either of them. But if I have to, I will stand my ground. Little Green just sent his mother away without even blinking, for crying out loud! I will not allow myself to be ashamed of what we did.

"I love you, Bella."

"I love you, Edward."

No, I will not be ashamed.

"You want to go home?" he asks. Maybe he can read my mind.

"Yes, I'd like that. Are you coming with me? Please?"

He nods his head yes and gives my hand a little squeeze before he lets go of me and gets on his knees. He turns around and silently starts picking my clothes off of the floor. When he gets to Esme's blouse, he stills for a moment, rubbing the blue silk between his thumb and index finger.

"You... you won't take it back, or will you?" he suddenly asks, staring down at the fabric in his hand.

"What?" Alarmed, I get up and sit back on my heels.

Take back what? That I want him to come home with me? Or...?  _Oh my God!_  "What do you mean?"

I can't really see his face; he sitting halfway with his back to me. But I can see his jaw grinding.

"That you love me... you won't take it back, right?"

"Never!" I gasp out.

With his eyes still glued to where his fingers fiddle with the silk, he nods his head. "Good," is all he says. "Good."

_Be still, my heart!_

I scoot over to him as quickly as I can and wrap my arms around him from behind. He tosses the blouse aside and reaches back around himself, grabbing my hips and pulling me even closer. With a sigh, he closes his eyes and lets his head fall back.

"I'll find you a shirt to wear," he says.

.

.

(BELLA, still later)

Just a few more steps, past the door to the dining room and around the corner. My tee shirt and apron are tucked under my arm, along with my purse. Edward is carrying the card-box with our letters. Our free hands are joined between us, as he leads me along the hallway.

No Esme or Carlisle to be seen; we almost made it. I will use my cell to call a taxi when we're outside. Edward said his phone is broken. Just a few more steps...

"Edward? Isabella?"

_Fuck!_

We both flinch and stop walking at the sound of Carlisle's voice. I squeeze Edward's hand and step closer to him to let him know that I won't leave his side, no matter what. I straighten my shoulders as Carlisle emerges from out of the dining room.  _Let's get this over with._

"Son," he says softly. "How are you feeling? Are you ok?"

I can feel Edward tensing up next to me. He doesn't look at his father as he answers, "Yes."

"I'm glad to hear that. I take it you two want to leave?"

"Yes."

Edward starts shaking a little. I don't think Carlisle can see it, but for me it's palpable.

"We're going to call a cab," I explain, foreseeing the next question.

"That won't be necessary," Carlisle replies and turns to Edward again. "If you're feeling well enough to drive, I have your car ready. You were supposed to get it today anyway, so..."

A car? Edward owns a car?

Carlisle reaches into his back pocket and gets out keys and something that looks like a business card of sorts. "Can I come a little closer, Edward?"

He doesn't wait for an answer. Or maybe Edward has just nodded or something; I don't know. Carlisle approaches him slowly and holds out the items. Edward's hand in mine twitches, reluctant to let go of it. After a few moments of pondering, he bends his knees and carefully drops the card-box instead. Then he picks the keys and the card off of his father's palm.

Carlisle takes a step back immediately and shoves his hands into his pockets. "You'll want to deposit the spare key somewhere, in case you lose one. I could take it, if you'd like. Or you can give it to Isabella. And I got you this autism ID card, just in case. You won't likely need it, but if you get pulled over it will spare you a lot of trouble. Just put it in the glove compartment, ok?"

Edward turns the card around a few times and says, "Ok."

When I crane my neck to see what it looks like, he wordlessly hands it to me. With my stuff still safely tucked under my arms, I take the bright yellow plastic card and skim through the short text.

There's a title in red lettering, saying ' _I Have Autism'_ , followed by an explanation in smaller print: ' _My medical condition impairs my ability to communicate with others. As a result I may have difficulty understanding your directions, and I may not be able to respond to your questions. I may also become physically agitated if you touch me or move too close to me. Please do not interprete this behavior as a refusal to cooperate. I am not intentionally defying your instructions._ '

I am a bit taken aback by how clinical this sounds. Also, I don't really think this is how the Edward I have gotten to know in the last two days really is. But I figure, this little card could come in handy, if he got pulled over by one of those cops who think behaving like a cave man is part of their job description.

The back of the card offers some blank lines for one's personal data. The usual  _'My name is...'_ , with the phrase _'and I have autism'_ added to it, plus enough space to insert the names and phone numbers of people that should be contacted in case of an emergency.

I want my name and number to be put there. If anything should happen to Edward, I want to be there to help. I want to be there for him.

I raise my head to find Carlisle watching me intensely. "I remember that shirt," he says and smiles. "I remember the reason why you made it. It was a great day."

"I remember, too. I remember when you drove me home that day," I say, feeling proud. I straighten my shoulders a little more, glad that I decided on wearing a padded bra today. Even though I'm pretty small, Edward's tee shirt is a very tight fit. We don't want our nipples to poke through the 'a' and the 'b' in the word 'Chatterbox', now do we.

"Looks good on you, Isabella."

"Thanks." I can't help but smile back at Carlisle. He's such a kind man. And still very handsome, just saying. It's hard to believe that he could have had any part in Esme's betrayal.

"Ok, drive carefully, son. Give yourself some time to get used to the Volvo. I know it's not quite the fanciest ride in the world, but it's a good vehicle. And it's silver, just like you wanted."

Edward mutters a quiet 'thank you' and bends down to pick up the card-box.

"I hope to see you soon, so we can talk about... this," Carlisle says softly, nodding his chin towards the box. "I'm really sorry about what happened, for the both of you. And your mother is inconsolable, Edward; she's completely taking the blame. I really hope you can forgive her one day."

Edward starts shaking visibly now; the keys in his hand jingle. For a moment, I'm afraid that he's freaking out, maybe getting angry again. But when I see him raise his head, I know it's just the effort to look Carlisle in the eye.

He does it, even though it almost seems to kill him. I'm sure he isn't even aware of how hard he is clutching at my hand right now. It actually hurts, but I bite my tongue. This is important for him.

"Did you know?" he asks, holding his father's gaze like a champ.

"No. Not until just recently. She never meant to hurt you, Edward. I hope you know that."

The silence that followes seems to last ages. His grip is fucking painful, and whatever it is that he is doing in his mind right now, I really wish he'd do it faster! I breathe a sigh of relief when he finally relaxes.

"Good night, Carlisle," he says and turns to leave, dragging me along behind.

"Good night, son. Isabella? Good night. Get home safe."

"Good night, Carlisle," I manage to say over my shoulder, and then we're outside.

As soon as the door closes behind us, Edward lets go of my tortured hand and pulls me close with one arm around my waiste. He rests his forehead on the top of my head and takes a few deep breaths.

"We're going home, right?" he asks, and his voice breaks a little.

I sling my arm around him, too. Still holding the yellow emergency card, I rub his back with the heel of my hand. "Yes," I confirm.

"I'm hungry. I didn't eat much."

"Me either. I still have the remainders of Esme's breakfast in the freezer. Sounds good?"

He sighs into my hair. "Yes."

His arm around me tightens until our hips come flush to each other. And what I'm feeling there makes me wonder if I should mention that I have a few condoms left in the drawer, too. I'm already tingling all over again. Is this normal?

"I'm hard for you."

_I know!_

I lean back in his arm to look at him. In the dim light of the street lamp, his eyes are almost black.

"Come on, little Green, let's go home."


	19. Chapter 19

 

(EDWARD)

Driving home is tough.

_Driving. Home._

Driving around in my own car is one of the things I've been looking forward to the most. Now all I'm looking forward to is getting home and out of this car as soon as possible. If I only could look at Bella there in the passenger seat... I want to touch her, but I can't. I need to keep my eyes on the road and my hands on the wheel.

We don't talk during the ride, and I'm glad. Not sure I could manage driving  _and_  talking. It's hard enough as it is right now... driving and thinking, driving and feeling. Even driving and breathing at the same time is a feat.

My body ought to know how to breathe by itself, without me paying attention, but it doesn't. If I don't remind my lungs to work, if I don't intentionally order my heart to keep beating, I might just pass out at the wheel. Right now I'm operating my body like I'm operating the car. Clutch, brake, breathe, shift gear, gas pedal, breathe, indicate, rearview mirror, breathe, pull over, clutch, brake...

Hands off the wheel. Out of gear. Out of breath.

"Edward? Why are we stopping here?"

_Because when you told me that you love me I somehow disconnected from my own body and the physical universe in general. Because the only way to keep myself from falling to pieces is to touch you. Because I need a break, or else I will crash this car. Because..._

"... this is not safe," I say and shut down the engine.

**.**

.

(EDWARD)

We're home at last.

Bella drove us. She didn't even ask me what was wrong after I had stopped on the side of the road; she just saw I was out of it and made us swap places. We kept holding hands during the entire rest of the ride, and I felt grounded again.

I whispered 'I love you' to her over and over, compulsively... I couldn't stop. She didn't say it back, but she smiled every time. And she squeezed my hand, twice. But she didn't say it. It was ok though – I mean, she was the one driving then. And driving and talking is tough. She didn't talk at all until we arrived home.

_Home._

When we walk up the three steps to the front door, we both get out our keys. We freeze for a second, looking at each other. Bella bursts into giggles and I join her easily. It's easy to laugh with her, now that we are here. Easy to breathe, too. No need to think about it any more, no need to think about how to breathe or what to feel.

Easy. Easy with Bella.  _Easybella..._

"Ok, you unlock it," she says, still grinning.

So I do. While I hold the door open for her, I realize that I have no idea whether we're going to her place or mine. She hasn't even seen my place yet, and I'm not sure that I want her to. Not before my piano is tuned properly anyway. I want to play for her which is out of question with the flat C... no way.

I'm relieved to see her heading straight for her own apartment.

With the key already inside the lock, she hesitates for a moment.

"You still hungry? It will take me a few minutes to throw something edible together, so... I don't know, do you want to go upstairs in the meantime, freshen up or something?"

I don't want to go anywhere. I want to be right here, with her. "No."

"No as in, you're not hungry any more? Or... no, you don't want to go to your own apartment?"

I realize that once again I'm not speaking enough, no idea why. Here I am with the single person I really  _want_  to talk to, and I just don't. Bella shouldn't have to ask questions like that. She deserves better. And I can do better.

"I don't want to go anywhere you are not, and I don't want to invite you upstairs unless I can play some of the songs I wrote for you when I was eleven. Actually, I would like to write a new song for you before I take you to my place for the first time. But I need to fix my piano first anyway, so no – I don't want to go to my own apartment."

Her jaw drops, which makes me a little anxious, so I hurry to continue speaking.

"And you don't need to make anything to eat, not for me anyway. I think I'm not hungry any more. Of course, if you want to eat something...? I could help you in the kitchen if you'd like? Or I could make something for you. Are you hungry, Bella?"

She blinks a few times before she shakes her head no. I wonder if she's really ok. I'm getting even more nervous because she doesn't say a word. Of course, I haven't addressed all of her questions yet...

"If you were indicating that I need to wash up... I will, if you want me to. Do I smell? I don't want to smell bad or something when we touch. And I want to touch you... a lot. But maybe I could use your bathroom instead of mine?"

That was all, I guess. Except for...

"I love you, Bella. I was thinking that you... actually... I was hoping you'd let me spend the night again."

_Please?_

"Oh God," she sighs and closes her eyes. But she is smiling. That's good.

And she finally turns the key. That's good, too, because when she opens the door and I follow her inside, I'm calming down immediately. The idea that she might have wanted to sleep alone didn't even occur to me until just a minute ago, and it shook me to the core. But as soon as the door snaps shut behind me, I feel safe. Home.

And things get even better when she starts speaking again. When she turns to me and takes my hand. When her body comes so close to mine that my spine starts tingling. When she lifts her face and licks her lips before she says just the right thing. So much better...

"I want you to stay the night, too."

_Yes!_

"And you don't smell bad, Edward, not at all. I really don't know why I said anything like that. Maybe it's because I could use a shower myself. I really do; it's been a hell of a long day for me."

_Oh..._

"I don't mind waiting." I regret saying this as soon as the words leave my mouth, because it's not true. I know I will count the seconds while she's alone in her bathroom. I also know this isn't an ok behavior, and I suppose it will be getting better, but just not today. "You don't smell bad either though."

She gives a quiet laugh. "Yes, I do."

I'm getting desperate. "Maybe you could leave the bathroom door ajar?"

"Maybe you could join me in the shower?"

My mind goes blank for a moment before it is assaulted by countless images of naked Bella in quick succession... her skin, wet, my hands on her, her hands on me... I feel my body temperature rising. I'm getting a little weak in the knees all of a sudden and my mouth is almost too dry to speak, what with my breathing speeding up. But I manage to whisper an answer.

"Yes please."

.

.

(EDWARD)

I've seen her naked and wet before. But this time it is so much better.

This time, I'm not feeling any concern about her well-being or about a possible pregnancy. I know she's fine. I can tell by the way she moves and smiles; even by the way she looks at me over her shoulder as she turns on the water.

And this time, I did not attack her on the kitchen floor like a mindless animal, but gave her pleasure just an hour ago without even being inside her. Even though I wanted to have my penis inside her, this is so much better. Because this time I'm not wondering if she'll ever love me back. This time she already said the words.

This is so much better. Who knew that words could ever become so essential? I want her to say it again; I want to say it to her again, even though I said it a lot already. But right now all I can do is watch.

I'm standing here in the bathroom door, as naked as Bella. No clothes are covering my arousal; no well-practiced mannerisms are hiding my want. I am bare in front of her, inside and out. My eyes are glued to her, my penis is pointing up and towards her, almost absurdly, twitching like a broken compass needle. And I'm watching.

The way her hair turns almost black as it gets soaked. The way her breasts move a little higher as she lifts her arms to stroke the wet locks back. I'm watching. I'm taking mental photos, several pictures per second. They're piling up in my mind, more and more of them... material for the most beautiful flip-book ever.

Drops of water trembling in her spiky lashes, under her nose and on her smiling lips where she's licking them away again and again... lick... smile... lick... I'm watching.

"Edward..."

The rivulets glistening on her breasts, zig-zagging downwards like living beings on the run, breaking up and converging on their way down, leaving liquid pearls that get stuck on her nipples for the briefest moment before they drip down, quickly followed by another one... and another one... identical beads... get stuck... drip down... get stuck... drip down... I'm watching, I'm watching.

"Edward, love... won't you come in?"

_Love!_

I'm in the tub with my body pressing against hers and my hands cupping her face, and I don't even recall walking over. I don't know when... how... did I get in here? Doesn't matter. All that matters is my mouth on hers. All that matters is that it's my tongue now licking the water off her lips, and the friction down there, the glorious feeling of my erection against her belly.

I'm enveloped in a veil of warm spray mist that is saturated with the most dazzling and enticing scent I know. My eyes want to roll back into my head as it hits me, the scent of my Bella, her womanly essence. And here I was thinking that it could be washed away, that simple water could take away its power. I flare my nostrils and let it fill me as I plunge my tongue into Bella's mouth.

She moans and squirms, and it's driving me crazy. I press harder into her, pushing her against the tiles, but it is not enough... not close enough. Her skin is hot and silky under the spray, and slippery where I'm rubbing my painfully hard erection against her. I bend in my knees and thrust my hips upwards, grinding against her. I'm going to come if I keep this up just a little longer, and I want to come. I want to come so badly. Is this me, making those noises? Those... grunts? The groan vibrating on my tongue, me or her? I can't tell...

Sure it is ok for me to come here in the shower, even without a condom... the water will wash it away, right? I'm losing it; I couldn't stop moving my hips for the life of me. The sweet torture building in my groin is making me... I'm gone, reduced to a tiny, meaningless spot somewhere in my mind, still watching. Only now I'm watching myself. And Bella. Bella and myself. I'm helplessly watching.

She breaks the kiss and I open my eyes. With her head thrown back against the tile wall, she is looking at me under half-closed lids. Her jaw has gone slack; she is breathing heavily through her open mouth. It's the face of an angel. Her hand is sneaking between our bodies, working its way down to where I'm burning, and... oh God, I know where this is going... I back off just the tiniest bit to give her room, so she can... oh...

Her fingers are on my penis, lightly stroking the underside, teasing, teasing... I hold my breath. Her eyes pierce into mine as she lets her fingertips glide up from the root to the tip. Just once. Slowly. I gasp. I want to look down, I want to see what she is doing to me, I want to watch. But her eyes are holding me hostage.

She wraps her hand around my length and she... her... I don't know, with her thumb? She gently pulls down the foreskin and rubs _(with_ _her_ _thumb?)_ the exposed tip. I suck in a sharp breath. I don't know why, but I groan a loud "Fuck!" And again, "Fuck, fuck...!"

I don't know why I'm saying this; it's definitely not the right thing to say when you're bursting with love and pleasure, but I can't help it. And Bella? She smiles at me! I brace myself against the tiles behind her, quickly turning into a throbbing, shaking mess with each of her strokes, and absolutely unable to stop that insulting chant.

"Fuck, Bella, fuck... fuuuuck... "

And she smiles at me!

I'm thrusting into her hand now, relentlessly, almost violently... and she smiles. I am hers, head to toe. Right now, she holds the power to destroy me or to make me whole. She holds all the power, and I wouldn't want it any other way. My Bella, my love... I'm too close... no control... I'm hers.

And then she says the words and closes her eyes, finally setting mine free.

She says the words, and I cry out as the giant wave of pleasure pulls me under.

I watch my semen hitting her stomach in thick spurts and running down, mingling with the pouring water, just as she says the words.

Then the world around me disappears, and all that is left are those words. The words she said still linger when I come back to my senses...

"I love you, Edward."

.

.

(EDWARD)

"You were talking a lot today," Bella mumbles into the comforter that's covering us up to our chins. She's wrapped up in my arms, with her back molding into me. Skin to skin. She said we're spooning. I like spooning.

"Yeah... I thought, you appreciate it when I talk."

"I do. I'm just still getting used to a talking Little Green. I want to hear everything you are willing to tell me about yourself."

She shivers a little and I hold her tighter. "You're still cold?"

"No," she says, "you are so warm; it's wonderful."

I hadn't noticed how much the water had cooled down until she reached for the faucet and ushered me out of the tub. I could have sat there forever, holding her and replaying the last minutes in my mind over and over. But her teeth were chattering. So we dried off quickly and settled in her bed.

"Talking to you is easy. With you, a lot of things are much easier for me. It's always been that way. With you, I really  _want_  to talk. Only with you."

Her hands squeeze my arm that's lying around her shoulders. "I know."

She is so small in my embrace, so delicate. Like I'm holding a fragile treasure close to me. I want to keep her safe from any harm. It's a new concept, as regards the two of us. Looking back, the Easybella of my childhood days was the strong one of us. She always knew what to do, and she was the one protecting me.

Of course, I've outgrown her physically, but that's not it. When I was little, it never occurred to me that she might be scared of anything. Well, except for the dog. The way she handled the dog incident was disturbing. But apart from that... no. She had been my rock, my shelter. Always.

But now it is like she's got some sort of predetermined breaking point, waiting for the pressure of whatever is troubling her to become too much. A weak spot in her soul that just hasn't been hit yet by pure chance. She is still strong, beautiful and strong, but also always on guard.

I haven't figured it out yet. But I feel protective of her. And it's a weird feeling. I don't know where to put it, or what to do with it. But it just won't go away.

_I want to make her feel safe. I want to make her feel good. Always._

I bury my nose in her hair and inhale deeply. It's still damp, and it smells so good. Everything of Bella smells good.

"Bella, did you like what I did in my room? When I made love to you with my mouth only?"

"Mhh-hmm..."

"Really? Do you want me to do it again... some time, I mean?"

She takes a deep breath. "Hmm... 's not disgusting? The taste?"

 _What?_ _Is_ _she_ _serious?_  My head jerks up. "No! Hell, no – the taste is..."

"Mmh... yeah?" she mumbles drowsily and turns her head to look at me. Her eyes are almost closed, she's already half asleep.

"You are tired, Bella. You need to rest." There it is again, this strong sense of protectiveness. The urge to care for her in every possible way courses through me like a hot rush.

"No," she protests weakly, "what's wi' the taste?" I can hear the smile in her sleepy voice.

"It's... well..."  _I_ _need_ _a_ _word._  I squeeze my eyes shut. "It's..."

"C'mon, lil' Green, I wanna know."

"It's yummy!"

"Oohhh..." she sighs, and then her whole body starts shaking with laughter.

Oh God, I love it when she's laughing! Even if it's just quiet, muffled giggles into the thick feather pillow. I nuzzle her neck, grinning so wide that my cheeks hurt.

"It's delicious... intoxicating... sweet... addictive... best taste in the world..." Well, that wasn't too bad!

"Then I wantcha to do it again," she says with a last snort.

I hug her tighter. It must be true happiness, this elating mix of excitement and calmness that makes my heart beat faster and my stomach tingle. I can't stop smiling.

"I think I am really happy, Bella. You're making me happy."

"...hmme too... happpp..." she mumbles.

I can't even imagine sleeping alone any more, without her warm body curled into me. I never knew it could be like this. I feel like I'm bursting with happiness; I'm wide-awake.

"I love you, Bella," I whisper with all the devotion I have in me; I just need to get it out.

"Mmmphmm..."

I place a kiss on the back of her head. "Sleep well, my love."

I spent the rest of the night watching her sleep, watching over her and listening to the new song that's rising in my heart and mind all by itself. I just need to write it down.

Tomorrow, I'll buy a wrest and fix my piano.

\- - -

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who are not familiar with musical instruments and wondering what the heck Little Green's going to buy:  
> A wrest is a tool you need to tune a piano (or a harp or other stringed musical instruments). It's a small wrench you use for turning the pins to which the strings are fastened, to make them sound higher or lower.


	20. Chapter 20

(BELLA)

**~ 5:45 a.m. ~**

I wake up long before my alarm bell rings. Again!

It's not even daylight. Like so often lately, since Jake moved out, I start from my sleep, gasping with a rush of adrenaline, but without the slightest idea why or what I might have dreamed. Nothing extraordinary about this, except that this time there's an arm around me, pulling me closer to a warm body behind me, and a voice whispering,

"Shhh... Bella. 'S okay."

_Edward._

I'm not alone.

I relax immediately. This feels so right, all of it... his smell, the warmth, the texture of his skin, the way my breathing is slowing down until it synchronizes with the soothing rise and fall of his chest against my back.

He waits until I'm perfectly calm again before he asks softly, "A dream?"

"No. Or maybe... I don't know. Sorry I woke you up."

"You didn't."

_He_ _was_ _up_ _all_ _night?_

"Haven't you slept yet? What have you been doing?"

"Nothing. Holding you."

We're still in the same position we were in when I fell asleep, as far as I can tell. I'm not really surprised though. No one can keep as still as Edward... or as long. When he was a kid, he could easily hold the same posture for hours when his mind was occupied with something. It was almost scary.

"You don't have to do that. If you can't sleep, you can get up and... do something."

"I know," he says and kisses my shoulder.

"I mean, I need to sleep a bit more because I have to work in a few hours. But you can just make yourself at home. Just... do what you want, Edward, ok?"

He hugs me even tighter. "I'm already doing what I want to do."

.

.

.

**~ 7:32 a.m. ~**

"Bella?"

"Mmmhyeah?"

"You need to wake up."

Kisses. Lots of them. Little, tender pecks on my neck and down my spine. So sweet... I'm not ready yet, not yet...

"Just five more minutes, please..."

.

.

.

**~ 7:37 a.m. ~**

"Bella?"

"Hmmm?"

"You need to wake up now. You'll be late for work."

"Uh uhm... nooo, not before the clock rings."

_And not with that warm, velvety presence I'm snuggling in._

"I turned it off."

_Oh, really? Well... hmmm..._

.

.

.

**~ 7:50 a.m. ~**

First thing I notice, as I slowly drift out of my slumber, is the delicious smell of coffee. Not the weak whiff that use to waft in through the window sometimes from the coffee shop downstairs, but the strong aroma of freshly brewed, hot coffee in a steaming mug right under my nose. It's pleasant.

The second thing I notice is the absence of Edward's warm body, which is rather unpleasant. I open my eyes to find said body kneeling in front of my bed, and indeed, holding the steaming mug of coffee I had just imagined right under my nose.

"Good morning," he says and flashes me the most brilliant smile.

He is fully dressed and clean-shaven. Apparently, he's been in a hurry doing his morning wash – the razor blade left a small scratch under his chin, and a little white flake of shaving foam got caught in his left ear. It's endearing, somehow. I reach out and brush it away with my thumb.

"Morning, yourself," I mumble sleepily and sit up.

Edward wordlessly hands me the coffee and takes a seat on the edge of the mattress. His hand comes to rest on my knee over the blanket. Smiling and wide-eyed, he watches me take the first cautious sip. He looks at me as if I were brand-new, as if I were a much longed for, shiny new toy he's now laying eyes upon for the first time ever. It's kind of surreal.

I look back at him in silence. Maybe I'm wearing a similar expression, I don't know; It feels like I am. I'm taking more sips of the coffee  _(he_ _made_ _coffee_ _for_ _me!),_  holding his gaze over the rim of the mug. My gulping is awkwardly loud.

"This... mmh, this is good," I compliment him. "Thank you."

His smile grows impossibly wider. "You're welcome."

"How late is it?"

"The alarm went off like twenty minutes ago. That's ok, right? You're not too late yet?"

"No, it's perfect. I need to get dressed in a bit though."

I slowly incline my head to the left and to the right and flinch at the sound of a vertebrae snapping. My neck and shoulders feel pretty stiff. Yesterday's events, the good and the bad, are taking their toll, I guess. I'm a little sore all over.

And it doesn't go unnoticed. Edward's smile falters.

"Are you..." he starts but stops mid-question, his lips left parted. The indication of a frown appears for a split-second and his hand squeezes my knee reflexively, as he seems to process something at lightning speed. It's intriguing to watch.

"Are you all right..." he starts again, and then pointedly adds, "... _baby_?"

It makes my stomach flutter. I cover his hand on my knee with mine and merely breathe my answer.

"Yes, I am. Just need to warm up a little. Not much of a morning person, you know?"

He looks down on our hands and interlaces fingers with me. "It's okay when I call you that, right? When I call you 'baby'?"

"I like it. Very much."

He looks up, and there is his smile again.

"Because you're my girlfriend now?"

_Dear Lord...!_

"Yeah... I guess I am."

I put the mug down on the nightstand; it suddenly weighs a ton. My hand is shaking and I need to take a deep breath to steady myself, but of course... holy shit, I'm his girlfriend!

"And what about my uhm...  _boyfriend_?" I ask back, giving a shot at teasing. "Did you not sleep at all?"

He shakes his head no. I shake mine in mock disapproval. We both smile at each other like idiots. Did I mention how surreal all of this is?

"Little Green and Easybella, huh?" I whisper.

"Yes," he sighs and slowly bends forward, putting his arms around my waist. He rests his head in my lap and closes his eyes. "Yes..."

.

.

.

**~ 8:47 a.m. ~**

Tanya is leaning in the doorframe of the drugstore's backroom, arms crossed in front of her remarkable rack. Her mouth is twisted into what I believe is supposed to be a pout, and she keeps tapping one foot as she watches me change into my work gear. I pretend not to notice that right now my unsually silent co-worker is the epitome of suppressed impatience.

Of course, there comes the point when she can't take it any more. "Jesus... speak, woman!"

"About what?" I'm all innocence.

"Oh, come on!" she groans. "Why don't you tell me whose car you just exited, for starters?"

"Nope, I don't think so. Let's just get to work, ok? I've got some shelves to replenish."

Cue a Tanya epic eye-roll.

.

.

.

**~ 9:25 a.m. ~**

Tanya is leaning against the rack with the feminine hygiene articles, arms crossed in front of what she claims to be Mother Nature's gifts (even though my boob-job radar goes bonkers if I so much as glance at those 'gifts'). She's chewing gum, quite noisily. Alhough I'm working with my back to her, I know she is scowling at me.

I try to ignore her and keep on tagging goods as if there's no tomorrow, but I swear if she doesn't stop popping those gum bubbles really soon, bad things are going to happen. I wish for a customer to come in, or better yet a bunch of customers to keep her occupied. But of course, there's no such luck.

"Ok, what was it with you and Mr. Cullen yesterday, huh?"

"It's  _Doctor_  Cullen."

"Yeah, whatever... I want to know why you gave him shit – which was pretty awesome by the way – and what was it about? And who the fuck dropped you off here this morning?"

"You won't let this go, huh?"

Tanya, "Nope." Bubble gum, 'Pop!'

_Dangit..._

"Well, then I hope you enjoy disappointment."

"Spill it, Swan, you know you will tell me  _everything_  eventually anyway," she retorts quite cheerfully.

And the trouble is, she's right: I  _will_  tell her. Not because Tanya and I are close friends, but because if I don't spill the beans, she'll never stop bugging me. Or worse, she'll just get the wrong ideas.

There's no way out. I figure if gossip cannot be avoided, I'd better perform some damage control right now by at least steering it into the right direction. Without lifting my eyes off my task, I speak as casually as possible.

"It was Edward, if you need to know. And yesterday with Carl... Dr. Cullen, that was just a misunderstanding. I had dinner with the Cullens yesterday, and that's it. For good old times' sake and all." _Well,_ _sort_ _of..._

"Wait... Edward? That mousy Cullen kid you babysat when we went to high school together?"

"Yep, that one."

"Wow, I didn't even know they kept him."

"Oh, come on!" I glare at her. "Seriously, Tanya?"

She shrugs. "Sorry, but all I know is what everyone knows: that he was gone one day. Rumor had it the Cullens were unable to cope with a disabled kid any more, so..."

"This is ridiculous. And besides, Edward is not disabled."

I resume tagging shampoo bottles, wielding the label machine angrily like a weapon. That's what people were thinking? That Esme and Carlisle had dropped Edward like a white elephant?

"Edward went to a boarding school. It was a special school for autistic children where they had programs for highly gifted students like him."  _Highly_ _gifted,_ _Denali,_ _take_ _that!_

"Autistic?"

"And  _highly_ _gifted_!" Jesus, do I speak Swahili? "You would have known if you just had asked me instead of listening to the gossip."

"Maybe, but we weren't exactly friends in high school, remember? I mean, dude, you didn't really talk to anyone anyway, except for those kids from the reservation you hang out with. And well, the impeccable Cullens, of course."

Right. And no one would ask the Cullens what's going on neither. They were like the town celebrities; people didn't talk  _to_  them, people just talked  _about_  them.

"I talked to Angela," I object weakly. "And Ben."

"Oh yeah, the nerd club," she snorts. "I hate to say it, sweetie, but that didn't help increasing your general popularity much, either."

I roll my eyes at her snippy comment, even though she's got a point here. But my display of disapproval doesn't impress her much anyway.

"So little Eddy is back, huh? How old is he anyway?"

"He is eighteen."

"Uh, yeah?"

"And a half!"

For a minute or two, the only sound in the room is the clacking of my labeler and the annoying popping of her gum bubbles. The silence means Tanya Denali is thinking. Which is probably bad.

_Clack. Clack. Clack._

_Pop._

"And he was the one who drove you to work this morning?"

_Clack. Pop. Clack._

"Yes."

_Pop._

She gasps. "Swan!"

_And here we go..._

"Are you telling me you are screwing Rainman?"

.

.

.

**~ 11:32 a.m. ~**

Tanya is leaning on the cash desk, arms crossed tightly in front of... well, you know what. Her boobs almost meet her chin that way, and I could swear she does this on purpose while she waits for the customer to collect his change.

The poor dude is pretty flustered; a middle age family man who just bought a pack of disposable diapers and now can't take his eyes off of Tanya's display. No fair, but funny. I shake my head at her, but can't suppress a grin.

When the guy finally leaves, she slumps down in that wobbly old swivel chair and her female anatomy assumes a halfway natural form again. "Man," she giggles, "did you see this? What was wrong with that dude? And who pays cash these days anyway?"

"You're outrageous, Denali!"

She laughs. "I know! What do you think, will he dream of the hot drugstore babe tonight when doing the missionary with the good wifey?"

"Bitch!" I say.

"Cougar!" she fires back.

"Ouch..." I clutch at my heart dramatically.

We both grin.

In the last two hours I have learned some surprising things about my bosses' cheeky daughter, and I found that I actually really like her.

First off, Tanya isn't stupid. She is neither thoughtless nor mean. One mustn't be fooled by her loose tongue or her packaging. Even though her choice of words may leave a lot to be desired, she is not in the least judgmental but rather one of the most open-minded people I ever met.

All it took to find that out was a decent fight, in the course of which we not only determined that I am not in a sexual relationship with Dustin Hoffman, but also that Edward in no way resembles 'that fidgeting dude from Boston Legal'. It also turned out that she has some knowledge about autism. She impressed me using terms like 'on the spectrum' and 'high-functioning', while at the same time giving me shit for scolding her earlier.

"I have a distant cousin, ok? I don't see him very often, but little Riley is a damn smart Aspie, if you ask me. When he started speaking a year ago, he did so in English and Russian fluently. He was seven years old then! So you can stop peeing your panties, Miss Political Correctness. "

That shut me up.

"But my cousin still fidgets like the Boston Legal dude, no shit!"

That made me roll my eyes again.

"I call him Rainman all the time and he loves it."

Let's just say Tanya and I do not share the same sense of humor.

.

.

.

**~ 12:45 p.m. ~**

"So I take it, the good doctor's wife is not exactly fond of the idea of you and Edward together. What if she kicks you out of your apartment?"

I gasp at Tanya's question, not sure what to say. That thought didn't even occur to me yet.

"What?" she asks with a shrug, "I'm just thinking practical here. Seems like Mother Teresa has pretty much lost her shit already; who knows what's next."

"Don't call her that," I say. "And she won't do that to me." Or would she?

"Oh, to be the fly on the wall when you have  _that_  conversation with her..." Tanya grins. "But you promise me, no retreat, no surrender, ok? And if anything happens, you know, with your apartment... I just want you to know that you can always have my couch, as long as necessary."

"Thanks. You are a sweetheart," I say, meaning it. Because that's another thing I've learned today; she really  _is_  a sweetheart. Even though I have known her since high school and have worked with her in the drugstore for several weeks now, I just never gave her a chance to show her true self.

Maybe it was the story of her cousin that made me finally feel a certain bond to her. Maybe it was the way she cheered upon hearing that Edward was my new boyfriend instead of jumping to one of the hundreds of obvious possibilities to judge me. Or maybe I just needed someone to talk to. I don't know.

But I told her the complete story, and it felt good. Well, not the complete  _complete_  story, of course. Even though such a thing as 'too much information' apparently didn't exist for Tanya...

"…  _and how long did it take you two to get it on anyway?" - "What is it like to have sex with an aspie man?" - "Does he know how to talk dirty? Wait, he does talk, right?" - "Is he good with his hands? I once fucked a bass player who was practically blind, and I..."_

Well, you get the idea. I wisely kept certain things to myself and ignored her pouting at my 'none of your business' comment.

Right now I feel the urge to give her a hug for so generously offering me an emergency refuge, when she suddenly and completely incoherently exclaims a loud, "Holy crap!"

"What is it?" Startled, I turn around to find out what she's gaping at, and what I see makes my heart do a happy little jump.

Outside on the sidewalk stands a very tall and very handsome Little Green, staring at the glass door. His lips are moving as if giving himself a pep talk or something. Apparently the windows are reflecting the daylight too much for him to see anything inside the store.

"Oooh... come in, cupcake, don't be shy," Tanya chants excitedly. "Come, kitty kitty... come..."

"What is Edward doing here?" I ask at the same time.

"Oh my god, are you fucking kidding me? This is Edward?" Tanya points a multi-colored fake fingernail at my boyfriend, almost accusingly. "THIS is Edward Cullen? Where has that little bag of bones gone that you used to drag around eight years ago? Swan, you lucky bitch!"

I can't address her outburst right now, because Edward has finally decided to enter the store. Tanya straightens her torso and composes herself to lean against the next best rack.

"Denali?" I say over my shoulder as I head for the front door to meet Edward.

"Yes?"

"Don't cross your arms!"

"What? Why?" Her face registers utter bewilderment.

"Just don't, ok?"

She huffs, and crosses her arms. Of course.

The door opens, Edward's eyes fall upon me and the smile that lights up his face would be sufficient to supply the town of Forks with its yearly requirement of energy.

"Hi," I say, properly dazzled.

He reaches for my hand, but then he spots Tanya behind me and falters. His eyes quickly snap back to mine. He bends forward a little and kind of conspiratorially whispers, "Can I touch you here? Is it...  _appropriate_?"

"Yes," I whisper back, equally secretive, "totally appropriate. You may even kiss me if you want to."

He thinks about it for a second. After side-eyeing Tanya once more, he says, "I guess I just want to hold your hand, if that's ok."

"Sure." I take his hand. "It's perfectly fine with me. But what are you doing here?"

"Picking you up? Lunch break?"

_Wow! Okay..._

Behind me, Tanya dramatically clears her throat.

"Edward, would you like to meet my co-worker?"

I hope I'm not asking too much; I'm a little insecure about this. I'd never tiptoed around him when he was a child, but somehow things are different now. He nods his head, yes, ever so slightly, not entirely convinced this is a good idea, but he follows me willingly as I drag him along. I watch his reactions carefully as I make the introduction.

"Tanya, this is my boyfriend Edward Cullen. Edward, this is Tanya Denali, future owner of this place and my... friend." Gosh, two days ago I wanted a cat to save me from dying of solitude, and suddenly I have both a boyfriend and a friend. "I suppose, you both remember each other?"

Edward's manners are impeccable. With a polite smile, he gives a little nod. His eyes immediately find the safe spot above Tanya's left shoulder. And there they stay, unwaveringly avoiding her gaze and, to my delight, also the protruding area above her crossed arms.

"Pleased to meet you... again," he says, velvet voice and all, and reaches out his hand.

Tanya doesn't even blink.

"Hot damn!" she says.


	21. Chapter 21

(EDWARD)

Boyfriend. She just called me her boyfriend.

It's almost like a new secret name; only it is not a secret. She just introduced me to another person as her boyfriend... officially. My heart leaps for joy. I'll do my utmost to not embarrass her.

I easily fall into the routine of being polite and social, especially since Bella said the Denali girl is her friend. I didn't know that; it's a surprise. But there's just still so much I don't know when it comes to Bella; there's no use mulling over it now.

"Pleased to meet you," I say, because it is the appropriate thing to say, even though it's not entirely true. My memories of Tanya Denali aren't very pleasant. So yes, we've met before. "...again," I add to let her know that I remember her. I also offer a handshake.

Her reaction is unexpected and confusing. She doesn't take my hand but curses at me instead.

"Hot damn!" she blurts out.

"I beg your pardon?" Have I messed up already? What did I do wrong?

I cast an anxious glance at Bella. She's smiling. It can't be that bad then.

"What Tanya is trying to say, if I may translate for you, is that she is pleased to meet you, too, and she thinks that you, uhm... have matured nicely."

I must have looked somewhat quizzical, because Bella adds, "In Tanya speak, you know, 'hot damn' means that you're easy on the eye or something along those lines."

Okay, I get it... it was a joke.

But then Tanya says, "No kidding, dude!"

No joke? Okay. I don't want to appear rude, so I return the sentiment, using her very language code to be on the safe side.

"Thank you, and... hot damn back at you."

I'm pretty sure that, by common standards, she passes for an attractive woman. Many men like big breasts, and hers are enormous. Judging by the way she's showing them off, she must be very proud of them. Tanya seems to go to great effort with her outer appearance, so she probably likes to hear that people acknowledge the result.

As if to prove this to be true, she finally shakes my hand and beams at me, "Oh really? Well, I'm trying, haha. Thank you so much!"

"That's such a sweet thing of you to say, Edward," Bella also approves.

I smile at her, happy that I did this to her liking. "I'm just being polite, that's all."

"...the fuck?" Tanya gasps and drops her arms. Her breasts immediately move down a few inches and wiggle dangerously. I briefly wonder if it hurts, considering how big they are.

Bella bursts into giggles next to me.

"What is it?" I demand to know.

I'm not sure what's going on, but it appears I have unintentionally offended Tanya? I get the notion that, technically speaking, I kind of took back my 'hot damn' comment by admitting that I was just being polite. Maybe that wasn't the smartest thing to do. On the other hand, being polite is the opposite of being offensive. I keep forgetting that, even though politeness is what people expect and appreciate when you meet them for the first time, they don't want to be reminded of that.

Bella snorts, "Oh my... that is just... priceless...!"

I give a small chuckle myself, much to my own surprise. Normally, I would become very uneasy at how much confusing this entire conversation is, but Bella's outburst is so wonderful to watch that I can't bring myself to regret whatever funny thing I might have just said. I love light-hearted Bella; I want to see her that way all day.

"Ha, ha," Tanya deadpans, "this is so not funny!"

But she is laughing, too. I can see her shoulders shaking as she turns to me.

"Dude, you certainly know how to give a lady a good time!"

Ah well... apparently, I do. They are having a lot of fun. Bella is still wiping her eyes and grinning when Tanya punches her playfully.

"Congrats, Swan, you scored a rare specimen here. An honest man - if that isn't refreshing..."

"I know," Bella says and squeezes my hand. She looks at me so lovingly that my breath catches in my chest for a moment.

"Eddie, you're the bomb. I really like you," Tanya declares surprisingly.

"You do?" I blurt, unbelieving.

"Yep!"

She doesn't even really know me, yet she seems genuine. I really wanted Bella's friend to like me, but now I'm kind of shocked at how easy this was. She flashes her teeth at me with a wide grin, and for a moment I'm distracted by the bit of smeared lipstick on one of her front teeth. I realize only then that I'm looking at her mouth. My eyes have actually left the safe spot a while ago, and I didn't even notice.

Focusing on that small lipstick mark, I ask, "Why?"

"What, why? Why I like you?"

"Yes."

"Because you're gorgeous, for starters. I mean, totally hot damn, ok? And you don't even know it, which is double hot fucking damn in my book. And second, because you made my new BFF Bella here finally pull that stick out of her ass, which was about fucking time, if you ask me. And last but not least, it's nice to meet a man who doesn't lose ninety percent of his brain capacity at the sight of my girls, for a change. I could come up with more, if you want me to, but you already look like my cousin before going all Boston Legal, so I'd better stop."

I have no idea what she's saying, or how this is supposed to explain why she likes me. For a moment, I feel the overwhelming urge to cover my ears with my hands and hide in that soothing hum of my own blood, like I did when I was a child... before I learned how to just shut off other people's verbiage with my mind.

Maybe it's because I have Bella with me, I don't know, but that moment passes quickly. I find that I'm fine, despite all the confusion. Tanya's odd way of speaking makes me feel light-headed, but not in a bad way. I just wish was able to keep up...

"I'm sorry, but I think I lost you after the 'double hot fucking damn'," I say.

"Tanya is trying to be funny," Bella assures me, "that's just her, don't worry. I'll explain everything to you later."

It never bothered me much if people were making jokes at my expense; I'm somewhat used to it and learned to let the ridicule drip off of me. But this is different. I can see that Tanya isn't making fun of me but rather with me; her way of being funny is obviously supposed to give us a good time. If anything, she's making fun of herself.

That's new. And interesting...

"She is funny," I say, finally recognizing this weird bubbly feeling inside of me as amusement.

Before I avert my gaze again, I see Tanya squinting her eyes at me.

"Are you just being polite again? Because really, Eddie, I don't think I can take much more of that politeness of yours."

This time, she can't fool me. "That's a trick question, right?"

My response totally cracks them both up, and it is contagious; I can't contain my own laughter. Bella covers her mouth with her hand, chortling hysterically into her palm. Tanya throws both arms up in the air and guffaws.

"Oh my God, I love this guy!" she hollers. "I want to hug the shit out of him right fucking now!"

The sudden tinge of panic I feel at her words must show on my face, because Bella quickly interjects,

"Uh no, Tanya... enough, ok?"

"Don't worry," Tanya backs down after taking a few deep breaths to steady herself. "I can keep my hands to myself. Plus, Bella here would probably stab me in the eye if I touched that hot chassis of yours, so you're safe... for now!"

I'm not sure, but I think she just winked at me.

"Tanya!" This time, Bella sounds actually a little concerned.

"It's okay," I say. "She's just kidding again." I think? I really hope so.

"You've got that right," Tanya laughs. "Okay, why don't you guys go and enjoy your impromptu date before lunch break is over? And take your time; I have everything here under control. Today is pretty uneventful anyway."

"Are you sure?" Bella asks. "I mean, I could -"

"Uh-uh, no back talk! I don't want to see you again here within the next hour, minimum. Shall I go in the back and fetch you your coat, or are you capable of getting it yourself? Seriously, I'm starting to worry..." She gestures to my and Bella's still joined hands. "Do we need a doctor to separate those surgically?"

"That's really sweet of you. Thanks!" Bella lets go of me and gives Tanya a hug. "I'll go and get changed; I'll be back in a second," she tells me and runs off, leaving me standing here.

I think I will just keep staring at Tanya's lipstick-smeared perma-grin; I'm getting used to looking at her mouth instead of looking past her. It works just fine, even better than the shoulder spot. I'm sure she doesn't even notice that I'm not really making eye-contact. I'm good at this; she clearly thinks I'm just plainly facing her.

However, I should probably make conversation. Because staring at someone without talking to them is rude. Fortunately, Tanya gives me a cue.

"So, did you plan anything for your date?"

"Yes," I answer, relieved. "I want to take Bella to Volturi's and buy a wrest."

She raises her brows. "Oh really? How romantic!"

"You think so?" I haven't looked at it that way.

"Gosh, no! I don't even know what the hell a wrest is!"

"Okay." She was joking again. Irony... I really should have figured it out by now. I guess she doesn't really want to know about the wrest either, so I don't bother to explain. "Actually, I think I should make sure Bella gets something to eat."

She snorts and shakes her head. "You don't have any sense of humor that you know about, do you?"

"I'm getting there, don't worry." I assure her. "I'm pretty smart."

"I bet you are, Edward. You're probably one of the smartest guys I ever met. And I'm not kidding now, just so you know."

I notice, for the first time, it's 'Edward', not 'Eddie' or 'dude'. And I understand. She calls me by my real name to let me know that she means what she's saying. I'm surprised. I wouldn't have trusted her to be so subtle.

"I think, you're pretty smart, too," I say, disarmed by her sincerity. "And I'm not being polite now, just so you know."

She nods her head a few times. Solemnly. Silently.

"Eddie?"

"Yes?"

"I've got lipstick on my teeth, haven't I?"


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cricrila Redlips Cullen verified the Italian phrases I used and gave me the impression that I speak Italian, which I just... don't. Any remaining errors are mine, not hers! (Translations at the end of this chapter)

(BELLA)

He holds the passenger door of his shiny new Volvo open for me, but when I'm seated inside, he doesn't close it at once. Instead he keeps standing there, gripping the door handle, and frowns down at me.

I want to ask him what's going on, but before I get a chance, he snaps out of whatever internal debate he's having and gives me an apologetic look.

"Bella, is it ok if we don't talk while I'm driving?"

"Sure," I answer, and his relief is palpable.

I have a feeling that Edward won't be up for much more conversation for quite a while. Even though everything went pretty well with Tanya, it must have been a 'Close Encounters of the Third Kind' sort of thing for him. It has clearly worn him out.

"Don't worry," he says, still frowning.

"I won't," I say, puzzled at his cryptic comment. "What could I possibly worry about?"

"Me talking? Your lunch? I don't know..."

Even that concise reply seems to strain him right now; it sounds more like a question, as if he's suddenly uncertain about the whole situation. He did so well at the drugstore, it was easy to forget that he's not comfortable with meeting new people, especially without warning... and I have trouble keeping up with Tanya's filthy wit sometimes myself, at that!

Admittedly, I can't imagine why Edward would think my lunch could be an issue, but right now is not the time for any inquiry on that part. Right now he needs a break, so I keep it short and sweet.

"I'm not worried," I assure him again, simple as that.

It works. He nods his head and smiles at me timidly before he finally closes the passenger door and darts around the car at an almost unnatural speed.

"I'll make sure you get something to eat," he mumbles as he pulls out of the parking space, and that's the last thing spoken for the entire ride.

I have no idea where we're heading; he didn't tell me and I'm not going to ask now. He is a good driver, calm and circumspect – as long as he doesn't have to talk. When we take a turn to the left and leave East Lauridson Boulevard, I lean back in my seat and look out of the side window.

I usually don't get around much in Port Angeles. I go to work and back home on the bus, and shopping 's not an issue either. For everything not available at Denali's, there's a grocery store in immediate vicinity of my place. I don't regret leaving the car to Jake. During our marriage, he had monopolized it most of the time anyway, so I rarely ever got to drive anywhere. I don't miss that old ride at all.

But fact is that I didn't go out much. After only two more turns, I don't recognize any streets or houses anymore. I've never been here. I smile to myself at the sight of all those age-worn boats leaning against patient garage walls or slowly sinking into the dirt under make-shift wooden shelters. Everyone in this part of the town seems to own a boat, even though most of those crockleshells look like they haven't seen any water in ages.

When Edward pulls over after just a few minutes and shuts down the engine, I turn to look at him. He appears to have relaxed a great deal during the short ride; the crease between his brows has smoothed out and a small smile is playing around the corners of his mouth.

"We're here," he says.

I glance around, looking for... I don't know, some place to eat maybe. But I can't spot anything even close to a diner or a restaurant. There are just a few homes, standing wide-apart from each other. Some of them very much need a paint-job, but the front lawns are mowed and tidy. It's a typical working-class neighborhood, and the street is pretty quiet at this time of the day.

I raise my brows quizzically at Edward. He looks excited, a little cocky even.

"Okay," I sigh in surrender. "You gotta give me some answers."

He tilts his head and slightly squints his eyes as if considering carefully and says, "Yes... no... to the other side... a wrest..."

I gape at him. He is obviously... teasing me? I don't think I've seen him like that yet. But strangely, I also get a weird sense of déjà vu, as if I've had this kind of conversation before. Or maybe it was a dialogue in some movie I'd seen? I don't know...

Misreading my puzzled expression, he starts to elaborate, "A wrest is a special tool you need..."

"I didn't want to know how to tune a piano," I cut in.

"You knew that?" He seems genuinely surprised.

"I'm not only reading Tanya's 'InTouch' magazines, you know," I retort, a little snippier than intended. "So what were you talking about just now... yes, no, other side and else?"

"You wanted me to give you some answers," he shrugs.

He is clearly enjoying keeping me in suspense; this is fun. I decide to play along to see more of cheeky Little Green.

"Yeah, right. You win, I'm curious now. So what did you think were my questions?"

His playful grin is in full force now. Also, his chatterbox skills have recovered remarkably well during the short drive. Counting them down with his fingers, he rattles off questions and answers. He's even using different voices, taking turns doing a pretty convincing Bella-impersonation and speaking in his own velvet lilt.

"This is where you wanted to take me?" Then in his own voice again, "Yes." - "Are we going to eat here? No." - "So where are we going then? Other side of the street." - "What for? To get a wrest."

And with that he opens the door and gracefully winds himself out of the driver seat. Again he is at the passenger side of the Volvo so quickly that I don't get a chance to exit the car on my own. I take the hand he is offering me, but instead of just gallantly helping me up like I expected, he pulls me close and into his arms as soon as I am standing.

"I was just kidding with you," he whispers against my temple. "Did you catch it?"

Oh hello, goose bumps! "Certainly..." I breathe.

His hand is caressing the nape of my neck, his lips brushing my cheek. "Did you like it?"

"Yes, you're good at kidding," I confirm. "For a moment I thought you might have caught the Tanya bug."

"Tanya's cool. Funny. And smart." He pulls his head back and looks at me thoughtfully. "She's not always just kidding, you know."

"She's a good person. It's just hard to tell at times whether she's serious or not, right?"

He shakes his head. "It's a bit of a challenge, but I like that she's not acting differently with me. It makes me feel less... different. Besides, she gave me a clue. It will be easier from now on."

"A clue?"

"Yes. If she's serious, she calls me Edward instead of Eddie, so I will know it's not a joke."

"Wow, I wish she'd give me a clue like that, too." I laugh. "That's really nice of her."

"And smart."

"Yes, that too." I smile. I think I like Tanya even more now.

"I want to kiss you, Bella," Edward suddenly says. "Appropriate?"

Oh, totally!

Instead of an answer I press my mouth on his. He tilts his head to deepen the kiss and his long fingers rake through my hair and cup the back of my head. I feel that familiar liquid heat wash through me immediately, head to toe, and I whimper into his mouth. I can't help it; this is just the way it is with Little Green.

Too soon for my liking, he breaks the kiss and says, "You must be hungry."

Jesus, you have no idea...!

"Let's go and get the wrest. Then we'll find some place to eat, okay?"

Oh... eat. Yes, I'm hungry for food, too, I guess.

He takes my hand and leads me across the street. It's only when he stops in front of one of the smaller brick houses that I notice the inconspicuous shop sign at the door:

~ VOLTURI VIOLINS ~

The sound of a small bell, strategically fixed above the door, greets us when we enter the shop. It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the dim light inside, but then I find myself in a little wonderland. What looked like just one of those family homes from the outside, is harboring the kind of enchanted, antique place you might find described in an old bedtime story... you know, where the shopkeepers seem odd until you find out they're actually wizards or something.

The room is crammed full of musical treasures, mainly stringed instruments... violins, cellos, guitars, nothing but beautifully crafted, old-fashioned instruments. They're hanging on the walls and from the ceiling, tightly packed. Some are resting in stands on the floor, surrounded by hand drums and wooden boxes full of small percussion instruments and all kinds of rattle-and-jingle stuff. An intimidating double bass is towering above it all in the center of the room, its only serious competition the black baby grand standing next to it.

Everything in this tiny universe of its own is shiny surfaces and elegant curves, and every item oozes tradition and awe-inspiring craftsmanship. Strangely, this place that holds the promise of symphonies and other sonic sensations, is eerily quite, except for the ticking of a huge antique wall clock.

I look up at Edward and find him smiling blissfully. "Marvelous, isn't it?" he whispers.

A voice from somewhere in the back calls out, "Just a second, please. I'll be right with you."

I almost expect someone in white tie and tailcoat to appear, a violin in the left hand and a fiddle stick in the right, ready to serenade their customers. But the first thing that comes into sight, when the curtain in the backroom door parts, is a blond Mohawk and a bright smile.

I involuntarily start counting the piercings that adorn the ears as well as certain facial areas of this otherwise extremely handsome young man who seems to belong anywhere but here. His entire appearance, from the worn biker boots and shredded blue jeans to the band shirt, screams Rock 'n Roll. Or Punk. Or whatever... But his face is young and boyish with those bright blue eyes and warm smile, cute dimples and all.

"Hello," he greets us cheerfully. "My name's Jazz; how can I help you guys?"

Edward isn't smiling any more. All of a sudden he is back to stiff posture and furrowed brows.

"Hello... Jazz," he says intently. "I would like to buy a wrest, please."

I almost forgot that his happy, easy-going persona is really just a precious gift reserved for me. Edward doesn't exactly look uncomfortable talking to a stranger, but he is reeling off his social behavior like reading his lines from a script. He is being polite again, not really making any connection with the friendly guy in front of us. Once again, I marvel at how well things went with him and Tanya. Until just now, I hadn't realized how exceptional that was.

I think this is the first time I really perceive the way he's acting in a situation like this. One could easily confuse his aloof attitude with arrogance, I guess, even though nothing could be further from the truth.

However, Jazz doesn't take offense or show the tiniest sign that he even notices anything unusual about Edward's demeanor.

"Piano tuning, huh?" he says, regarding his uptight customer thoughtfully. "Wow... wouldn't have thought you'd do it yourself. Don't you guys have personal staff for stuff like that?"

Now what the fuck is that supposed to mean?

Edward's face remains unreadable, as he simply answers, "No."

The two men look at each other in silence - Edward fixating on his favorite safe spot; that Jazz guy still blatantly gazing. After a few seconds his dimples deepen and the million-dollar smile is back in full force.

"Well," he says, "I guess they're down-sizing everywhere these days. Anyway, I'm not sure whether we have such a thing for sale. Let me ask the boss, okay?"

Edward gives a brief nod. "Yes, please."

Jazz turns on his heels, granting us a glimpse of his right butt cheek peeking through an XXL rip in his jeans, and slips through the curtain.

"Okay, that was weird," I say. "Do you know that guy?"

Edward shakes his head no, just like I expected. I mean, he hasn't been here in years. And how did he know about this place anyway? It's not like there's a neon sign flashing the words 'music store' outside. Maybe Jazz has just confused Edward with someone else.

I'm kicked out of my musings when the curtains part once more and an elder man appears, young Jazz in tow. I suppose, this must be Mr. Volturi Violins in the flesh.

"Buongiorno!" he says in a musical voice, confirming my suspicion. He is a small but wiry man with olive skin and oily hair, which is still thick and jet-black, even though I reckon him to be in his sixties. The countless wrinkles in his face, mainly laugh lines as it seems, increase as his eyes fall on Little Green, and he smiles up at him so warmly as if he's just found the prodigal son.

Things get even weirder when Jazz leans forward and whispers into the man's ear, "It's him, right? Told you, it's him."

Mr. Volturi clutches his own chest in a typical Italo-dramatic gesture.

"Edward?" he breathes. "Is that you?"

.

.

.

(PORT ANGELES, MAY 2005)

"As you can see, I have a variety of guitars to choose from. If you want to try a few and play a little, feel free to look around," Aro Volturi told the elegant lady who stood awkwardly in front of the low, glass cabinet that served as his counter desk. From time to time, she threw a glance over her shoulder as if to make sure that there was an emergency exit... just in case.

Aro smirked at her. He was a luthier with heart and soul, and he knew that the masterpieces he had created with his hands sometimes had that effect on people.

"But you know," he winked at the woman, "sometimes it's more like the instrument chooses you instead of the other way round. And these little beauties here often tend to be pretty stubborn; they'll feel if you don't love to play them, if you don't really love the music."

"Oh no," Esme said. "I'm not looking for myself. I want a guitar for my son, Edward."

Once again, she nervously looked at the front window behind her. Aro started to wonder if she was being persecuted. She seemed to be checking for a tail... maybe she had just robbed a bank or something? His handcrafted instruments came at a price, that's for sure, but they weren't that expensive!

"His teacher thinks that he might have some musical talent and she suggested having an instrument or two in the house, so they are at his disposal. We just want to see if it is something he would like to try."

Aro frowned. He didn't like where this was going. However, his first impression of this woman was not that of the usual over-ambitious mother who forces her kids into doing something they don't really want, just to impress the other members of her Tuesday bridge circle.

"So the kid doesn't play any instrument yet?"

"No," Esme admitted. "But..."

"And this was his teacher's idea, not his own?"

"Yes... no! I believe he would like to play though."

Esme found the man intimidating; she almost regretted coming here. However, the idea that music might help Edward improve had sounded so convincing. But maybe she should have gone to one of those big stores in Seattle instead of this secret hideout.

"Well, if your son wants to play the guitar, I think it would be best if you bring him here and let him pick his instrument himself," Aro suggested politely but firmly. If the bambino appeared to not really be into it, Aro would simply refuse to sell anything to his mother.

That's how I roll, he thought to himself; none of my beauties will ever help torture an unsuspecting kid. If you love Regina Musica, then she will love you back and protect you when times get rough. But your heart must speak to you; you can't force it, or else the portal to this magic world might close forever.

"That's what I was planning on," Esme said, a little desperately. "He is here, but..."

Once more she looked back over her shoulder, and this time Aro followed her gaze and saw the boy standing outside. The kid was looking down at his shoes, hands in his pockets and shoulders almost pulled up to his ears, as if he was sulking.

"Ahhh..." Aro said softly.

Esme was agitated now. "Listen," she addressed the rebellious Italian shopkeeper, "my son is... Edward is a bit different, okay? He has special needs, like... you know, communicating is really tough for him, but we know he has it in him. We think... we hope that music will help him to express himself. So if you could just help me to find the right instrument, I would be very grateful indeed."

"I see," Aro mumbled thoughtfully, impressed by her barely contained temper. This woman really cared for her child. Instinto materno... ammirabile! If her son was at all passionate like her but just unable to let it out, music might indeed be his catalyst.

"So let him come in," he said, not averting his gaze from the tightly wound boy outside.

"That's the problem," Esme sighed. "He won't come in. I tried, but he just... won't."

They both watched Edward for a few moments. He seemed to be completely unmoving, but Aro noticed that every now and then those long lashes would flutter – then the boy's eyes would dart around, scanning what's behind the glass, and his shoulders would twitch for the briefest moment before he cast his eyes down again.

"Oh, I think he will," Aro replied confidently. "La musica lo chiama. The music is calling out to him... something inside here is calling out to him. Attenzione!"

He slowly walked to the front door and opened it as if to let some air into the room. Without even so much as turning his head in Edward's direction, he returned to his place behind the cabinet.

Leaning on his elbows on the glass surface, he pointed his chin towards the collection of wind instruments inside and said softly, "Why don't we take a look at these flutes for a while instead of making your son more nervous than necessary, Mrs..."

"Cullen," Esme introduced herself to the odd salesman.

"Pleased to meet you, Signora Cullen. I'm Aro Volturi. How do you like the one all the way to the left, the flauto dolce here? Isn't she a beauty? It's a Moeck flute, a very old German manufacturer."

Esme stared at him incredulously; was he serious? She couldn't admire his flutes right now, and she couldn't care less if some hermit in the German Alps had carved that thing out of his own wooden leg. She needed to keep an eye on Edward, for Christ's sake! What if he decided to take a walk, or someone came along the street and he panicked or something? Her head twitched into the direction of the window.

"Don't. Look!" Aro stage-whispered, effectively making Esme freeze. "He's coming inside."

Edward stood in the door, finally able to let his eyes roam freely. He was very glad that Esme had found something else to focus on. He didn't like to be watched all the time. Sometimes, her protectiveness was like a narrow cage that made it impossible for him to move or do anything. It was as if she was literally waiting for him to do something weird or silly.

The funny thing was, if she watched him like that long enough, most of the time he did something weird in the end. Edward was relieved that the old man had distracted her in time before it happened again.

He knew why Esme had brought him here. It had scared him when she told him she wanted to buy a musical instrument, most likely a guitar, because 'it's a good instrument for beginners.' It would be nice to have some musical instrument in the house, she had said.

But Edward wasn't dumb. He knew what she was planning on, and he felt pressurized. Even though he liked music and was intrigued by the idea of an instrument that could lend its 'voice' to him, he didn't want to have just another thing in his life that would add one more proof to his long list of failures. What if the guitar didn't obey his fingers? What if music failed him just like words still did?

He'd come a long way since the day the dog attacked the most important person in his world. He would answer yes-or-no questions, tell Esme whether he was hungry or not, and even report little things from school. He said hello and good-bye, please and thanks. But he couldn't voice any of his deeper thoughts to save his life.

He knew the words, but they were somehow stuck inside. They fought to stay inside of him with claws and teeth; sometimes it felt like they would rip him open on the inside if he tried to force them out. Except for when he was alone with Easybella; with her he could have talked freely. However, he never did, because talking just wasn't necessary with Easybella – she understood him without words.

"La musica ti chiama, no?" a soft voice behind him spoke. Edward didn't turn around. He knew it was the old man, the owner of this shop. Even though Edward didn't know the words, he found their melodic sound very soothing. He nodded his head, in spite of himself, and thought, yes...lamusica lamusica...I think the music likes me. I like music, too.

This place was full of unplayed, unheard music. But Edward could hear the music. It was everywhere around him, trying to find a way inside of him. Or maybe it was the other way round... maybe music had always been inside of him and this place made it want to come out finally. Edward couldn't tell.

"Do you see something you like, ragazzo?" Aro stepped in front of Edward and gestured to the row of concert guitars on the wall. "It's not forbidden to touch these pretty ladies here. If one of them calls your name, let me know. I'll get her down for you."

Edward just stared blankly at the instruments. He couldn't hear a call or anything else from them. But maybe that was just because the music in his mind grew louder by the minute.

"Your mother and I were just looking at some beautiful flutes. Maybe you'd like to take a look, too? They are over there in the cabinet."

Edward turned his head to see where the man was pointing. Encouraged by the boy's reaction, Aro walked over to where Esme was still standing, marveling at the way her son seemed to have some sort of communication with a perfect stranger.

It was only when he heard the sound of a single piano key struck behind him, that Aro noticed the boy hadn't followed him. He turned around to see Edward standing in front of the old baby grand, with his hands behind his back. His mouth was open and he was breathing loudly, as if the fact that he had elicited a sound from the big black thing in front of him scared him to death.

Aro quickly snatched his old piano stool from the backroom where he had used it as he tuned cellos. He carried it over to the piano and left it there with a quiet, "Prego, bambino."

Edward didn't sit down at once; he found the keys were at a comfortable height as it was. But he figured, by offering a chair to him, the man obviously wanted him to know it was alright to touch the big piano, too. So he brought his hands forward again and lifted them above the keys.

Because here's the thing: that single note he had just played had lit up in his head like a firefly at night. He really, really wanted to do it again.

Reluctantly, he stroke the same key once more, and there it was – a golden light in his head, illuminating a certain point in the three-dimensional grid that was the music playing only in his mind. He knew exactly where this light was positioned, even when it was off. He was also aware of the hundreds of other spots in this grid; he just hadn't known that they could be turned on like little lamps.

Excitedly, he pressed another key. The light in his head flashed exactly where he knew it would, but this time it was of a deep purple. A small laugh escaped him unwittingly. He raised his other hand, too, and played both the golden and the purple sounds simultaneously, with a little more force. The colored dots lit up brightly, and they seemed to reach out to each other with glimmering straight lines.

Edward watched his inner visions in awe, with his hands hovering over the keyboard, until the sound had completely died down and the lights and colors had faded to grey again. He gave a loud moan and eagerly climbed onto the piano stool. Totally oblivious now of his two spectators, he started to play a melody. He played it single-handed; his left hand rested limply in his lap. And he played it fluently.

Esme and Aro watched the spectacle with bated breath. Little did they know about the luminescent chain reaction unfolding in the boy's mind. He had closed his eyes, and they could see his eyeballs moving underneath the lids. They could see his body swaying like a willow tree in a breeze, but they knew his mind had gone somewhere else.

Esme recognized the melody he was playing; she had heard Bella sing it a few times on those days when Edward wouldn't go to bed unless Bella agreed to stay by his side until he fell asleep. It was something about a little green and northern lights... yes, that was it. 'Little Green'. A sweet song.

And now he played it by heart. As if that wasn't astounding enough, Edward raised his left hand too, and built a harmonic counterpart on the lower keys, with even a few broken chords thrown in.

All three persons in the room gasped in unison - Esme and Aro because they simply couldn't believe what they were seeing and hearing, and Edward because the fireworks that went off in his head with the musical harmonies he created was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"È incredibile..." Aro whispered and surreptitiously wiped away the single tear that had run down his cheek. "You didn't know that, did you?"

Esme shook her head; she couldn't speak right now. She was mesmerized by the way those delicate fingers danced over the keys as if it was something they always had wanted to do. How Edward could do this was beyond her, but she was beguiled by the way her beautiful son lost himself in the music.

After a while, when she was certain that her voice wouldn't fail her, she turned to Mr. Volturi and said, "I need to buy a piano, don't you think? I need to buy it today!"

.

.

.

(BELLA)

I have no fucking idea what's going on here. The only thing I understand is, everyone seems to know who Edward is, even though he has just assured me that he's never met Jazz before. Mr. Volturi, however, is a different story.

Edward nods his head and says, "Buongiorno, Signor Volturi. Come sta?"

Mr. Volturi's eyes grow wide. He raises his arms and waves his hands as if he's seriously trying to lift off.

"Dio mio, parla Italiano!" he laughs. But then he suddenly stills. "No... aspetta – you are talking! You just talked to me!"

"Yes, I did," Edward says and smiles timidly. The difference between Edward meeting the old storekeeper and Edward meeting young Jazz is striking. He definitely knows the man, and even more, he likes him. And yeah, what the fuck, Edward speaks Italian?

"Signor Volturi, this is my girlfriend Bella," Edward introduces me. He raises our joined hands between us, maybe to emphasize the connection we have. His pride as he calls me his girlfriend is radiating off of him like warm sunbeams.

"Molto piacere, Signorina Bella!" Mr. Volturi takes my hand, but instead of shaking it he bends over and breathes a kiss on my knuckles. "And your name suits you, if I may say so. Una bella ragazza, indeed!"

"Thank you, Mr. Volturi," I answer, resisting the urge to wipe the back of my hand on my jeans.

"Ah please... call me Aro, both of you, per favore. And you already met Jasper, my charming but no-good handyman."

Jazz a.k.a. charming but no-good handyman Jasper grins and tips his Mohawk, apparently his substitute for the non-existent hat.

"It's so wonderful to see you, Edward, all grown up and healthy. And speaking, dio mio! I cannot wait for November, porca miseria! Your mother must be thrilled beyond measure! I'm so... we all are so proud of you!"

I'm still outwardly calm, but I swear I'll be going berserk any moment if I have to endure any more of Aro's audible exclamation marks without someone finally telling me what's going on. Also, it didn't escape me how Edward flinched at the mention of his mother.

Jazz leans down on one elbow on the glass cabinet and raises his right hand as if to give Edward a high five.

"I already got the tix, man. You're a celeb!"

Edward frowns at Jasper's palm, wondering what to do.

"Come on," Jazz chuckles, "gimme five!"

To my surprise, Edward does it. But he doesn't seem to like it, because now he's frowning at his own palm. I think I've had enough!

"Okay," I say, forcing a smile on my face to not let my irritation show. "Can someone please enlighten me? I'm a bit at a loss here... November? Celeb? Tickets?"

The two men look at me incredulously, you know, that too-bad-she-is-pretty-but-batshit-crazy kind of look. Then Jazz wordlessly shoves one of those leaflets that are lying at the side of the cabinet towards me and taps his index finger on it. There's a photo of a huge illuminated concert stage and very little text.

I take it and read. Then I read once more. And then, a third time. I read the words, but they make no sense to me at first. My brain needs a moment to follow...

...

"The Last Wonder of the World"  
Friday, November 4, at 8pm  
Benaroya Hall.  
Downtown Seattle (3rd & Union)

Mateo Messina and Edward A. Cullen, composers  
Anthony Spain, conductor  
Northwest Symphony Orchestra  
featuring piano soloist, Edward A. Cullen

The Last Wonder of the World is the Symphony Guild's  
14th annual fundraising concert.  
Join us in celebrating the enduring hope  
and unbreakable spirit of the patients  
at Seattle Children's Hospital  
and in all of us.

...

What the...?

I'm rendered speechless.

Partly because this is just un-fucking-believably amazing! Partly because I feel ashamed for not knowing about this.

I realize I never even asked him what he was really doing; it never even crossed my mind to ask him just once about his plans, his graduation, his advances, his career... I mean, he already has a fucking career that everybody but me knows about!

What the hell was I thinking? I made love to him as a man, but unwittingly still pegged him as a boy without a life? I wasn't thinking at all, that's the problem. Or maybe I was just thinking with my lady parts. Oh, Little Green, notwithstanding all the love in my heart, I did so wrong by you...

I feel the heat rise to my cheeks with embarrassment and guilt as I raise my eyes to his face.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I whisper, crestfallen.

He smiles at me as if this is nothing, and shrugs.

"It just didn't come up, I guess."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITALIAN:  
> Buongiorno! - Good morning!  
> bambino - small boy  
> Regina Musica - Queen Music  
> Instinto materno... ammirabile! - Motherly instinct... admirable!  
> La musica lo chiama. -T he music calls out to him.  
> Attenzione! - Attention!  
> flauto dolce - recorder (flute)  
> La musica ti chiama, no? - The music is calling you, right?  
> ragazzo - boy (kiddo)  
> Prego, bambino! - Here you go, kiddo!  
> È incredibile... - This is unbelievable...  
> Come sta? - How do you do?  
> Dio mio, parla Italiano! - Oh my God, he speaks italian!  
> Aspetta! - Wait!  
> Molto piacere - Very pleased (...to meet you)  
> una bella ragazza - a beautiful girl  
> Porca miseria! - Damn!


	23. Chapter 23

(BELLA)

"I'm feeling like a moron," I blurt out, as soon as we are seated in the car again.

"No," Edward says softly. He puts his hand on my thigh, a worried look on his face. "Why?"

I turn my gaze to the crumpled newspaper wrap I hold on my lap, containing Aro's very own wrest, a loan to his very own wunderkind. It turned out he didn't have any to sell. The weight of the package feels good in my hands. Real. Comforting.

"Because apparently, I'm dating a celebrity and I'm the only one who didn't know about it."

"I'm not a celebrity," he disagrees. "And we're not dating."

My head jerks up in surprise. "You're not... and we're... not? What...?"

His brows knit together, and his face takes on the same expression it did when we were at my apartment door yesterday night, just before he so lengthily went into detail about why he didn't want to go to his own place. If there's any pattern to him looking so displeased with himself, I'd better prepare for another Little Green word vomit.

He takes a deep breath. "Bella..."

_Oh yes, here it comes..._

"I'm not a celebrity. Celebrities are famous persons. I'm not famous. My picture is in the local newspapers because I will perform at a local event. I'm originally from this area and they are excited about it, that's all. I have a contract with the Seattle Symphony, starting next year. They say I will be the youngest resident pianist they ever had. Esme showed me a paper from last month where they made a big fuss about it. But that's it. I'm not famous. I'm just a musician."

I beg to differ, but this is one of his new epic chatterbox moments, so I don't get a chance to even open my mouth.

"We're not dating because we just aren't... yet. I suppose I could still take you out on a date if you want me to. But usually, dating is what people do before they become... before they..."

His frown deepens and he bites his bottom lip, the telltale sign that he's scanning his internal list of possibly applicable terms. I let him search a few seconds before I offer, "Before they have sex?"

He shakes his head. "Before they become like us. Dating is what people do when they still just hope to become like us."

_Oh. Okay..._

"And if the dating goes well, they fall in love," he states matter-of-factly.

"Is that so?" I can't suppress a smirk at his dead-serious declaration. Because he is Little Green, he doesn't get irritated but smiles back at me instead.

"Yes," he answers, "that's what I've heard." Then the frown returns. "I know I'm not really... well, I'm just book-smart, not social-smart. I'm trying, you know, but sometimes it just doesn't work out. I'm sorry I didn't date you, Bella, but I loved you before I even had a chance. I've always loved you, but in the beginning I was too little and too... stupid. And then we were separated. And then I came home and I still loved you, or... loved you again."

I'm not smirking any more. His words pull my heart-strings, and I wonder if I'll ever stop underestimating this man.

"I already loved you before I ever had a chance to date you," he adds, somewhat regretfully.

"Edward, you are much more than just 'book-smart', whatever that means," I say, for want of something better to ease his mind. "You never cease to amaze me with your way of thinking. You're so much smarter than most people I know."

"No, I'm not. You saw me at Aro's when Jasper appeared. He was just being friendly and I wasn't able to relax or even behave like a normal human being. I know how to do it, you know, but all the appropriate things to say get scrambled in my head and I can't get them out. I guess that's why I never made any normal friends. Because I'm not social-smart."

"Okay, you're not social-smart," I reluctantly agree.

It's pretty obvious that Edward is seeing himself quite clearly and isn't willing to take any pep talk for pep talk's sake, if it isn't true. And yes, I saw him struggling with Jasper.

"But you did great with Aro."

"That's because I know him."

"You knew him when you were a child."

"I never forget things. And he hasn't changed much."

_Damn, he is one stubborn bastard!_

"Edward..." I sigh.

"Look, what I'm trying to say is, we're not dating. But I didn't skip this stage in our relationship intentionally. I was even considering asking you on a belated date, when I thought you didn't love me back... you know, as a way to try winning you over. Because that is how it sometimes works too, right? But the next day you fell in love with me on your own. So the chance was gone."

I take his hand and give him my best assuring smile. "I don't mind. And you know, we can still have many dates, just to enjoy ourselves."

"I know," he says, and there's a touch of sadness in his eyes, like a tenuous veil. "I just wish I had won you over before we made love for the first time. I just wish you'd loved me already then."

"Oh God..."

I let go of his hand and wrap my arms around him... a little awkwardly because of the damn center console, but he bends forward and pulls me against his chest. The wrest slips from my lap and into the foot-well with a loud thud. I don't care.

"But I did, Edward. I loved you so much already; I just didn't know."

He sighs into my hair. "Good," he whispers. "Good… and I'm not a celebrity."

No, just a musical genius who is going to be the youngest piano star in the history of Seattle's leading orchestra and is working with, as Jasper so eloquently put it, 'fucking Grammy winning Hollywood composer Messina'.

But I don't say anything. I don't want this to turn into a real argument. Also, my stomach chooses the first quiet moment we've had since we entered the car to give an embarrassingly loud growl.

Edward giggles.  _He giggles!_

When he lets go of me, he looks quite amused. His mood swings might give me whiplash.

"That was loud," he states the obvious. "You need lunch now."

I cock an eyebrow at him. "And  _that_  was just social-smart. See?"

"Not at all," he insists as he turns the ignition key.

"Okay, I give up. You win."

He chuckles. What's with the giggling suddenly?

"And you're not a celebrity."

"Nope."

At least not in the meaning of 'global super star'," I clarify.

"Bella... this is silly. I'm not a celebrity at all."

"No, you are a musical genius."

He doesn't reply this time. Maybe he agrees on the genius part, or maybe he just can't object any more because he's driving again. Doesn't matter. I lean back in my seat and relax, glad to have the final say.

.

.

.

We're at Port Angeles Boat Haven, enjoying the spectacular view of the harbor. Edward drove us all the way down Boat Haven Drive to the tip of the street that reaches out far into the basin. The small lot is deserted, except for a parked boat trailer and well, now us, in Edward's Volvo, picnicking.

"How do you know about this place?" I ask him. "I mean, you haven't been in Port Angeles in years. How did you even know how to get here?"

He swallows down the last bite of his burger and shrugs. "Google Maps."

_Of course. Duh!_

"Besides, the town is very geometrical, very neat. Like a grid. You can't go wrong, if you just memorize a few coordinates."

"Except for the road-works we had to detour around, huh?" I wink at him.

He smiles at me sheepishly. "No, that wasn't in the satellite picture. But the 'Plunkin Shack Cafe' was, and the reviews said it's a local favorite to grab a quick lunch. It's good, isn't it?"

I have already devoured my share of the takeout we fetched on the way. Or maybe I should say I 'inhaled' it. I didn't know how famished I was until I my taste buds made their first contact with the cheeseburger.

Now I really wish I had ordered something else along with it, like Edward did. He's just unwrapping his second course. I'm getting a little green-eyed here.

"Yes, it is," I say, eyeing the hot dog in his hand as he raises it to his mouth. I hope I'm not drooling, but I'm not sure.

He stops mid-raise. "What?"

I swallow loudly.

"You want?" he asks, pointing the hot dog at me.

"Yeah, maybe one bite."

Supporting myself with one hand on his thigh, I lean over to the driver seat and open my mouth. He slowly moves his hot-dog-holding hand towards me, and as soon as it is within my biting range, I put my lips around the part of the sausage that's peeking out of the bun.

I close my eyes and bite off a chunk. "Mmmh… ip'f good!" I mumble, chewing blissfully. The noise of my own chomping is so loud in my head that I don't notice how much Edward's breathing has sped up until I swallow and open my eyes again.

He is leaning back in his seat and staring at me, open-mouthed, and whatever his concern may be right now, it's not eating. The hot dog is still hovering at eye level between us; I could take another bite effortlessly. The beverage cup in his left hand tilts dangerously to one side, completely forgotten.

"What?" I ask.

Edward licks his lips and swallows. "Last Sunday, you know, when we made love for the first time and you…" he trails off.

"And I… ?" I raise my brows, wondering where this is going. The memory of our first time causes my pulse to quicken.

"You took me in your mouth."

I glance at his lap, then at the hot dog, than at his lap again. Sweet baby Jesus! Involuntarily, I grab his thigh tighter at the sight of the bulge in his jeans.

"You haven't done it again," he continues, "and I was wondering… are you afraid that I might, you know, orgasm? In your mouth, I mean."

I have no idea if this could be considered anything close to dirty talking, but it certainly has that effect on me. I know he doesn't mean it that way, but I can't help the heat rising to my cheeks.

I simply cannot resist - I slide my hand up his thigh and let my index finger graze the pronounced outline of his cock as I say, "Would you like that? Would you like to come in my mouth?"

The moan that erupts from his chest sets my insides on fire. Now the heat is spreading between my legs as well. "Would you?" I repeat without averting my eyes from my teasing finger.

"Very much," he breathes. "I imagined it a few times... yes. But, only if you want to."

I palm him over the fabric of his jeans and feel a light twitch. Encouraged, I give a little squeeze, eliciting another beautiful moan from him.

"I think I do." I smile, remembering when we talked about how much he liked to taste me. "I'm sure your taste is pretty… yummy!"

I take delight in the way his hips jerk at my words.

"We should try it some time," I say.

He gasps and whispers, "Yes."

I flick the top button of his fly open. "What about now?"

A sudden crunch sound makes us both wince. Startled, I look up to see the crumpled remains of a styrofoam cup in Edward's fist. A pinkish liquid is leaking out and dripping down. He doesn't even notice. His eyes are closed, and he is almost panting now.

"You just killed your milkshake," I say, and his eyes fly open.

"Fuck!" He jumps in his seat. Laughing, I take his hot dog and hand him some paper napkins. He puts the remainders of the cup into one of the empty takeout paper bags and starts cleaning himself up. "This is sticky. Fuck!"

"I'm sorry," I giggle. "But that was just so funny."

"No, it wasn't," he mumbles and buttons up his jeans. "It was not... appropriate. Not here."

Is he actually pissed off? Uh-oh…

"I'm sorry, Edward. I don't know what just came over me."

He looks down at his hands and shakes his head. "I want to go home now. Put your seatbelt on, please."

"Edward, what...?

"It's time anyway. I'll drop you off at the drugstore."

And with that he fastens his seatbelt and starts the car. I don't know what to say. I'm so shocked; I can feel my heart beating in my throat. He is hurt, and I don't even know why or what I have done to make him so upset. Until just now, he was playing along all right. Or wasn't he?

We drive back to Denali's in silence. I steal glances at him from time to time; he is grinding his jaw, mute, brooding, introverted. If he even notices me looking, he doesn't show it.

When we arrive and the car is safely parked, I can't stand it any more.

"I didn't mean to make fun of you. You know that, right?"

Without turning to me, he nods.

"Are you mad at me? Why?"

He shakes his head no.

I don't know what to make of this. He has been so easy and light-hearted in the last hour, and now it seems I wrecked his mood with my silly move. He won't even look at me. His hands are still clutching the wheel as if to keep them from searching for my touch as they would normally do.

Also, he doesn't get out of the car to open the passenger door for me, as he would normally do. Instead, he takes a deep breath and exhales a few words, barely audible...

"I want to go home."

And like that, I'm dismissed.

My stomach turns. I can't let him leave like this; I need to make this better. But how?

"Edward, can you please look at me?"

He turns his head, and when his eyes find mine I breathe a sigh of relief. I almost expected him to look past me like he did after his breakdown in my bathroom. But thank God, he is still with me – good. The deep crease between his brows – not so good.

"You know, it's okay if you're mad with me," I offer. "But I want to understand it, and maybe make it up to you if I can."

"I'm not mad at you... I think."

He thinks?

"I can not talk now."

"Okay," I assure, even though it's definitely not okay. But I leave it be. "I need to go inside now. I'm already late."

He swallows and parts his lips as if to speak, but doesn't say anything. When I open my seat belt, he releases his, too.

We look into each other's eyes for a few more seconds, then we both speak in unison, "I'm sorry."

As soon as the words are out, he leans over to me with a gasp; I quickly crawl up upon my seat to meet him and I'm almost straddling him when he wraps me in a tight hug.

"Bella..." he breathes.

I know there are passers-by, and I know Tanya is probably watching us from inside the drugstore, but I couldn't care less right now. With my arms around his neck, I kiss his forehead, his closed eyelids, his nose, cheeks, jaw... soft, deliberate kisses. He gives a shaky sigh.

"What's got you so upset, love?" I whisper. "What did I do?"

"I don't know. I don't know why I'm feeling so... angry?"

There's so much helpless confusion coloring his voice. I tilt my head back to seek his eyes. His lids flutter open; he blinks rapidly a few times and then he says,

"I don't know what you did. Not exactly. I'd just rather you didn't do it again."

_Oh, that's really helpful! Damn..._

"I need to think about it," he adds.

"We'll talk tonight then?"

"Yes."

I kiss his lips. He kisses me back, with his mouth closed. I climb off of him and compose myself to exit the car. When I cast one last glance over my shoulder, he has turned away from me already. His hands are back on the steering wheel and his eyes are back on his hands.

"When shall I pick you up?" he asks, all business.

"You don't have to do that. I can take the bus."

That queasy feeling in my stomach won't go away, I'm still all churned up inside, seeing him wring his fingers around the wheel like that. Also, he doesn't reply to my comment, so I guess it's best if I just answer his question.

"Six o'clock."

He nods. "Six. Okay."

_I love you!_

I don't say it.  
I open the car door and get out.  
I watch him drive away.  
I raise my hand and wave. So silly...

Then he's gone. The queasy feeling stays.

When I enter the store, Tanya is nowhere to be seen. At least she didn't watch us then. I find her in the backroom, slouching on the bench with her legs on the table, ankles crossed. Her shoes are off and she's wiggling her toes.

I can tell she's excited about something, even before she notices my return and greets me with a loud "Ha!"

Ignoring her outburst, I walk past her to my locker, shrugging off my coat on the way. As I put it on the hanger, I can hear Tanya rumble behind me. She's up and standing next to me before I've turned around.

"Swan!" she whisper-screams and waves a copy of the Peninsula Daily News in front of my face. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me that you are dating a celebrity?"

_Oh crap..._

"Not now, Tanya, okay?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My inner average fangirl (Fanny): "Seriously, Betti? You cannot stop here!"
> 
> My inner critical artist (Artsie): "From a literary point of view, this is a valid move. The reader is with Bella here, trying to figure out what's wrong, you know?"
> 
> Fanny: "Are you kidding me? This ending sucks! And what's with the lemon… hot dogus interruptus? That sucked, too! Big time!"
> 
> Artsie: "Well, from a literary point of view-"
> 
> Fanny: "Why don't you just shut up?"
> 
> Artsie: "Why don't you just grow up?"
> 
> Me: "Helloooo! Who asked you two to butt in? I'll tell you what sucks, ok? Split personalities suck!"
> 
> Artsie: *huffs*
> 
> Fanny: *sulks*
> 
> Me: *ducks*


	24. Chapter 24

(BELLA)

"Are you sure you don't want me to wait?" Tanya asks me for the fifth time. And for the fifth time I assure her that yes, I'm fine, and she can close the store and go upstairs.

6:15 p.m. She has waited too long already.

"Ok," she surrenders with a sigh. "But if he doesn't show up and you need a cab or a place to wait for the next bus, just ring the bell. I don't like the idea of you waiting here outside in the dark and cold. I should kick his cute ass for standing you up, I mean, what the hell?"

"He will come, Tanya. But thank you."

I know my smile isn't really convincing, but Tanya lets it rest. "Ok, see you tomorrow."

When she's gone, I sit down on the doorstep and get out my cell phone. I don't know if Edward has replaced his broken phone yet, but then I realize it doesn't matter anyway because I don't even have his number.

"Fuck!"

I can't believe he's not coming. Maybe he got stuck in the traffic? Or is he still upset... too upset to keep his promise to pick me up? He wouldn't do such a thing, or would he? But I don't understand what made him distraught in the first place, so I can't be sure.

6:25 p.m.

No, this is ridiculous. He wouldn't stand me up like that. Something must have happened.

The thought sends a chill down my spine. I can't wait here any longer, knowing with sudden certainty that he really isn't coming. Not because he changed his mind, but because he can't.

Something must have happened.

Fighting back the sudden nausea, I rise to my feet and move. If I run really fast, I can still catch the 6:35 bus.

.

.

.

(EDWARD)

Music is reliable. My piano is reliable, now that I've fixed the treble C. And it was easy to fix. My fingers are leading an independent existence on the keys, as if they didn't need any cerebral commands. They know music; they know the rules.

…  _they know the song... Bella's song... the new one... a tripping arpeggio..._

My fingers know the rules of how to break the rules and how to un-break them again. Sequences, patterns, waves, air in motion. I don't need to pay attention; I just let go and let my body take over. It is safe to give up control because music is trustworthy. And while drops and waves and layers of sound fill the room, I can think.

Music is trustworthy; people are not.

I wish everything in life was as easy as music. Actually, I mistakenly thought it was as easy the first day when I got Bella back. But it isn't. With the things happening these days, there's no doing the math.

…  _an ascending sequence of open fifths... anticipating the main theme..._

Love.

There are no chromatic signs to keep you from going astray, to keep you  _safe_. Not even with Bella, no-more-Easybella. Maybe if I could understand love like I understand music, but I don't.

_...ritardando... breathing silence..._

Sex.

There's no axis of abscissas to find your place, no formula to predict the results of your actions. No rules, no safe ground. Everything is floating, and what was bliss on one day turns into a mess on the next.

…  _A minor seventh chord... crescendoing quarters..._

I know how to be a musician, but I don't know how to be a man.

I'm playing the song I composed in my head when I was with Bella last night, but I notice it has changed. Where's the sweet cadence gone? Broken chords, broken rules... there's no going back. I wish I could find words to go with the melody.

I've never felt like my music is lacking lyrics before, but now I do. Words that could give shape to Bella's tune for everyone to understand the lovedliness I'm in.

Is that even a word,  _lovedliness_? Is it?

There's a faint layer of flickering light chains weaving itself through the solid grid construction that is Bella's song in my mind, like meanings behind meanings behind meanings.

I gasp and stop playing. I try to get a hold of this additional dimension, but the delicate patterns fade away along with the dance of lights as the sound dies down.

With a sigh, I slowly lower my hands until they rest on my thighs. I can feel the goose bumps under my palms, and I shiver as I notice the chill that has crept in through my bare feet on the cold floor and has now consumed my whole body.

How long have I been playing in the nude? How long has it been since I came home and shed all of my clothes in a frenzy to get rid of that sticky feeling of failure? It was still daylight when I washed the dried sperm off my belly. It is dark now. It must be late.

After the shower I went straight to my piano. And then I played. And I calmed down. That's all I remember. How late is it? And why do I even want to know? Time doesn't matter when I'm playing; it doesn't even exist...

The muffled sound of my new cell ringing from somewhere under the heap of clothes on the floor reminds me that I still have to put them in the washer, or they will soon reek of soured milk and... cum. I don't even want to touch the stained clothes again, but I have to, if only to silence the phone which is starting to give me a headache. I haven't found the time to change that default ringtone yet.

I'm really cold now. I need to put some clothes on. And I should drink something; my mouth is so dry.

Just a minute...

I can't find it in me to get up from the piano bench. Not yet. I close my eyes and wait for the ringtone to stop. After an eternity, it does.

I'm feeling anxious all of a sudden, as if I'm missing something really important. But I cannot figure out what it is. My mind is so screwed up these days. It can't be the laundry... or the phone. It's probably Esme calling. I don't want to deal with either of it. Maybe I should sleep.

Sleep sounds like a really good idea right now. I pull my feet up, let myself fall to one side and curl into a ball on the piano bench. The leather makes a smacking sound, as it separates from my butt cheeks after what I realize must have been hours. My arms hold my knees against my chest and I drift off quickly. It doesn't even bother me when my phone starts ringing again.

.

.

.

I'm back. It was a dreamless sleep, absolute darkness, absolute silence, and it was much needed. Without opening my eyes, I get my bearings effortlessly. It takes me two seconds to remember where I am, and another two seconds to notice what has changed while I was sleeping.

_One jar of jelly...  
two jars of jelly..._

This is my place. I'm still on my piano bench. I'm still in that fetal position and I'm still naked.

_three jars of jelly..._

I'm no longer cold.

I'm wrapped up in what must be my comforter, judging from the feel and smell of it. The bottom is folded around my feet and ankles, and the sides are firmly stuffed under my knees and my back to leave the cool no way to creep inside this cocoon.

_four in my belly..._

I'm no longer alone.

She doesn't stir or make any sound; I feel rather than hear her breathing. But I sense her presence like one would sense the coming of spring. The air is different with her in the same room, sweeter... and charged with some sort of energy. Breathing is easier. Moving is easier. She even changes gravity.

She floods the room with  _lovedliness_. It  _has_  to be a word!

"Bella," I whisper, and open my eyes.

"Fuck!" comes her muttered response as she tries to untangle her legs and scoot over to me from where she's been sitting on the floor, cross-legged. I giggle at her awkward struggling, which earns me a glare.

"My fucking legs have gone dead," she huffs.

And then she's there - brown eyes, blushed cheeks and all – with her breath fanning over my face. I wiggle one arm free from underneath the thick comforter and our hands find each other like magnets.

"Are you okay, Edward? I was worried sick!"

I take a moment to process what she's saying. I'm feeling much better. I'm feeling really good now, actually. I nod my head yes and smile at her. It's a whole-body smile, tingling down the back of my throat and warming me from the inside of my stomach. I'm just so happy that she's here.

She exhales a long breath. "You were so cold when I found you, lying here in the nude and sleeping like a baby."

"How did you get in here?" My voice is croaky. I remember being thirsty before I fell asleep. I still am.

"The window."

 _What?_ This is the third floor! She cannot -

"Just kidding," she smiles and squeezes my hand. "I have a key. My ex-husband used to do a bit of a janitor's job here, and I still have emergency keys to every apartment. I hope you don't mind that I let myself in? I was really worried about you."

Why does she keep saying that? "I was just sleeping."

"Yes, I can see that. And I'm really, really glad that you're okay."

Her smile is getting gauzy, like something she has just put on to cover... something else... a sadness? I don't like it. A small fragment of memory is coming unstuck in my mind, a puzzle piece of sorts that has gone missing, and I don't like it.

"Bella..."

It falls and tumbles towards its destination, and the closer it gets the more it makes my stomach turn.

"Edward, you promised me we would talk tonight, to explain to me why you were so upset. I waited for you at the drugstore..."

The tile clicks into place before she even finishes speaking and the rush of adrenaline flooding my system would knock me off of my feet if I weren't lying down already.

"... but you didn't come."

I hardly hear her last words over the increasing white noise in my ears, as the sequence of events rushes through my mind at a nauseating speed and high pressure, like through a bottleneck, and in reverse order.

_Fatigue... my phone ringing... a song that asked for words... piano playing... I tuned the C, still wet from the shower... my sticky clothes on the floor... crying in the car on my way home... leaving Bella at the drugstore... "When shall I pick you up?"_

"No..."

_I didn't... I forgot to pick her up... I forgot the time while I was playing... I forgot..._

"Oh no!"

I'm on my feet in a split second, breaking out in cold sweat at the realization of my failure. The comforter slips off of me. I stagger and in the hasty attempt to steady myself I land the flat of my hand on the lower keys.

Bella's shriek mixes with the thundering piano sound. She rises to her feet and slings her arms around my torso in one quick move. I hold on to her desperately, knowing I've messed up badly.

_Please, how can I fix this?_

"Oh God, Bella, I'm so sorry, so sorry... oh God..."

_Is there any way to fix this?_

"Please... " I beg.

_God, I want to undo this!_

"Shhh... calm down, Edward. It's okay. I'm here." Her hands are on my face and in my hair, stroking, soothing... "Look at me, love. I'm here. Nothing bad has happened. Breathe, okay?"

I breathe. I look at her. I calm down a bit.

"That's it," she whispers.

I am sick with love and regret and unable to tell her how I feel right now. This is a new degree of self-loathing, even for an expert in feeling out of place like me. I don't think there are even words to express the helpless misery I'm in. Or maybe...

"Asshole," I croak out. "I am an asshole."

"No, you aren't," she says firmly.

She moves a bit backwards, and I tighten my grip instinctively. I can't let her go; I can't lose her. But then I understand that she wants us to sit down. My body understands... just sit down, that is all. And so we do. Without breaking our touch, we sink down on the bench.

With one hand still cradling my cheek, Bella bends down and picks the comforter up off the floor. She tucks it loosely around my hips and legs, and I feel like crying about the way she cares for me, when I just failed her so badly... multiple times in just one day.

"I'm so sorry," I repeat myself for lack of anything smarter to say. "If there is a way to fix this, please... I would do anything..."

"Stop it, Edward," she cuts in. "I'm not mad at you. And you are not an asshole."

She pulls my head towards her until my face is nestled in the crook of her neck. Her body is working the Easybella medicine on me. Her warmth, her scent, her heartbeat. I start to relax under her touch, even though I still feel like a piece of crap, and rightfully so.

"Well, maybe you were being a bit of an asshole when you kept me waiting for you without any clue what was going on," she continues. "And if you want to fix this..."

_God yes, that's what I want, a thousand times yes!_

"... you could start by explaining to me what I did wrong and why you were so unhappy today."

I raise my head and take a deep breath; I don't hesitate. "It wasn't anything you did, not really. When we were in the car and -"

She cuts me off by putting her index finger on my mouth.

"Before you tell me everything - and you will tell me  _everything_ , right?"

I nod eagerly. Everything.  _Anything_. I love you, Bella.

"Your lips are chapped," she mumbles and her finger grazes my bottom lip. "Okay. I don't know what you did all afternoon, but you are kind of dehydrated and you're freezing and to be honest, you scared the shit out of me when I saw you lying here. I thought you were sick."

I shake my head no, and she smiles and takes both my hands in hers. They are much too small to cover my long fingers, but it feels like their clasp is keeping me from falling apart regardless.

It scares me how much I love her.

"Anyway... before you start, what about we sit down in your kitchen and fetch ourselves something to drink? And you should put some clothes on."

I don't like the idea of more fabric between us, but yes, I guess I should put something on. Especially if it is part of the fix-this-deal. And I'm really thirsty, too. She is right; I'm dehydrated.

But I'm having trouble letting go of her. Like she could disappear while I'm dressing. And it would be my own fault, right? I forgot her...  _again_!

"Edward?"

What is wrong with me? I just got her back after I had forgotten her for years, and I did it again. Maybe I deserved to lose her.

I know I'm being ridiculous; somewhere in the back of my mind I know. But the thought is hard to fight back. Haven't I proven today that even now I am incapable of doing right by her?

What if something had happened to her while she was waiting for me? Oh God...

"Edward, you are not going to panic now, are you?"

Yes, I am.  _Fuck! Focus!_ I look down at our joined hands, my life-line. I know I'm being irrational, but I cannot let go yet. In a minute, maybe...

Bella sighs. "I'm here, love. I won't go anywhere."

She gets me; she still gets me. She always does. The relief makes me dizzy.

"Okay? Little Green?"

_My secret name!_

"Would you feel more at ease if I take my clothes off, too?"

Oh God, yes...

Without letting go of my hands, she gets up from the bench. "Come on, let's get some liquid into this beautiful body of yours and then we'll take this conversation to your bedroom. What do you say?"

_What do I say?_

"Bella..."

I want to say a thousand times yes. I want to say thank you. I still want to say 'I'm sorry' over and over again, even though I know she doesn't want to hear that. I want to say that I love her.

I want to say so many things, but that's when I realize that she really isn't leaving. And everything she needs to know right now and everything that needs to be explained comes down to three words.

They are unexpected, but when they leave my mouth, they feel like the most important thing I ever said...

"I trust you."


	25. Chapter 25

(BELLA)

"Will you stay with me tonight?" he whispers so low, if I didn't feel his breath fanning my neck I could not even tell if he actually uttered anything. It's the first thing he has said since we have snuggled up to each other in his three quarter bed, sans clothes.

Well, come to think of it, I didn't speak much either. I was touched when he told me that he trusts me, but I didn't really know how to respond. His sudden declaration seemed a little disjointed. It's not like I'm taking his trust for granted, but the way he made it sound as if he just had an epiphany of sorts was surprising, to say the least. But then again, when did Edward ever not surprise me?

He didn't mean to launch any discussion anyway. He just got up from the bench and headed for the bedroom, clasping the heavy comforter around his hips with one hand and dragging it along behind himself like the train of a robe. I followed him, glad at not having to think of a smart reply. And the silence wasn't uncomfortable at all.

We made a stop at the fridge where he drank a glass of orange juice in one go. I admired the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he threw his head back and downed the last gulps of the much needed liquid. In his bedroom, he immediately crawled onto the mattress and turned around to settle back against the headboard.

Then he just looked at me, the green orbs of his eyes shining in his otherwise downright blank face. He neither offered a smile, nor were there any more signs of his earlier dismay. He just patiently waited for me to follow suit and get naked like I had said I would.

He kept his eyes trained on me while I stripped in front of him. There was nothing sexual about the situation and I didn't make a show of it. I had found him bare and vulnerable like a lost soul in the dark, and getting naked myself just seemed to be the right thing to do... like you would instinctively crouch down in front of a crying child to get at eye level with them as you soothe them.

Once I was rid of all my clothes, he wordlessly lifted the comforter to invite me in. When I climbed into the bed, he slid down and shoved the only pillow under my head before nestling up to me. With a heartfelt sigh bordering on a moan, he pulled me close and buried his face in the crook of my neck. I gently held his head, occasionally toying with a lock of his hair as I waited for him to get ready to speak.

Apparently, now is the time.

"Yes, I'd like to stay with you," I answer his question. "Are you warmer now?"

"Much," he replies. "Inside and out."

Hearing him say that makes me smile. With him, I know it's not just a shallow word play.

"Good. Will you tell me now what happened today?"

"Yes." Abruptly, he slips out from under my arm and sits up. "I think we should look at each other when I'm telling you, so you can see that I'm... sincere."

I prop myself up on one elbow. "I know you are sincere, Edward," I assure him.

"Okay." He nods thoughtfully, and that signature crease between his brows deepens as he tries to get his thoughts into order. This is so very Little Green.

"Don't stress yourself over how to begin," I encourage. "Just start anywhere you want. I'm sure I can keep up."

"Spillage," he blurts. "I can't stand it."

.

.

.

(A TRAILER PARK... SOMEWHERE, 1998)

The four-year-old boy was squatting under the trailer, naked except for a sweaty pajama top. His little hands were resting on his knees, and his earnest green eyes rested on his hands. He liked to look at them even though they were sore and pink; he liked the symmetry.

He was careful not to bend his fingers, so as not to make the lesions burst and bleed again. Being still was no trouble for him; it was easy. He had been in this crouching position for the last thirty minutes, unmoving and watching his tiny knuckles slowly scab. Now he waited for them to heal. The boy knew his hands would heal eventually, just like they had the last time and the time before. He just couldn't remember how long it would take; any sense of time was beyond him.

He could hear the sound of the TV blaring through the open trailer window. It was some stupid dialogue from a stupid sitcom, mingled with those fake eruptions of laughter. He didn't catch the words, but hearing those voices babble on meant that his mommy was planted safely on the couch, which in turn meant she wouldn't come looking for him for quite a while.

Maybe she wouldn't even come looking for him before his hands had healed? That would be awesome. Or maybe she would get tired again, like she often did when she drank many bottles of those mommy-only-juices. In that case she wouldn't even remember he was there, which would be really, really awesome.

He would just wait down here until dark, peacefully and in silence. He had no sense of time, but he knew that by the time it gets dark his pajama bottoms would be dry and they all would be safe again... if the cee-pee-ess lady came, she would see nothing.

He didn't know who the cee-pee-ess lady was, but he was very afraid of her nonetheless. She was his very own version of the monster in the closet, because he knew that she could show up any time and take him away. Because that's what she did with filthy little retards like him who still wet their pants or couldn't drink a single glass of milk without spilling on their clothes. His mommy told him so.

" _When the CPS lady gets wind of you filthy little bug, she will come and take you away, and it will be your own fault."_

And that's why she always made him wash his clothes immediately, so the cee-pee-ess lady wouldn't see the mess he made. Mommy even had a special plastic tub that she'd fill with cold water and soap, and then she would stand by and watch him scrubbing and rubbing at the fabric between his small fists, all the while railing at him.

" _Once the CPS lady sees you, she will take you to the asylum where they lock in all the filthy kids. They will be mean to you, you know? And what will you say to them, huh? Oh right, you won't say a thing. Little Mr. Spillage is too dumb to speak..."_

Most of the time, her words didn't even make sense to the boy, and not just because she was usually slurring. Words just didn't make much sense to him in general. But he had caught enough to be truly afraid of the cee-pee-ess lady and the  _asylum_ , and so he kept scrubbing with numb fingers until she declared she was sick and tired of watching him and finally left him alone.

For now he was safe. He was comfortable here in his hiding place. His pajama bottoms were clean and almost dry, his knuckles were scabbed-over and healing. Also, mommy's  _friend_  wouldn't return today, which was good, too. Because the only times the boy would still wet his pants were the times when mommy's  _friend_  was around... especially when mommy's  _friend_  poked his little arm and laughed like he had done this morning.

" _I asked you a question, you little maggot, answer me!"_

But the boy couldn't remember hearing any question, and even if he had, he wouldn't have known how to answer.

After that the  _friend_  had got into a fight with mommy like always, and the boy somehow understood it was about him, which was one more reason for the cee-pee-ess lady to take him away. That was when he felt it, hot and wet, running down his legs.

But mommy's  _friend_  wouldn't return today. So it was all good. Tired and exhausted from willing his fingers to heal, the boy finally gave in to the growing fatigue and rolled onto his side, carefully keeping his hands on his knees. He was sure they'd be whole again when he woke up.

.

.

.

(BELLA)

_All the fuss about a spilled milkshake? Really?_

"Why can't you stand it?

He shrugs. "I don't really know. I always hated it. It just freaks me out; I don't remember why."

"I thought you never forget things."

"I forgot  _you_ ," he says remorsefully.

"Yes, but we know why that happened and that it wasn't..." I falter, trying to fight back the anger welling up as I think of Esme's betrayal and that card box full of letters. "It was a very extreme situation."

"Yes," he agrees. "And I remember everything now. Everything."

I smile at him. "That makes me very happy."

"But there's a certain... threshold in my memory, some point in time where my remembering starts. It's like a barrier and I somehow cannot look back past it. My earliest memory is from when I was six. Anything before that is just... gone, so... I don't know... it's weird."

"That's ok. Many people have little to no memories of their early childhood."

"I just don't want you to think that I'm holding anything back from you."

He looks so troubled that soothing him with another platitude like 'it's ok' and 'I don't mind' is really tempting, but I know he is serious about this.

So I say, "I appreciate that; thank you."

To my delight, I am rewarded with a timid smile and a kiss on the cheek.

"You're welcome," he whispers, and I'm melting a little inside.

I cup his face to steal a kiss on the mouth from him, and his lips and tongue respond without hesitation. I should be used to it by now, but the sudden rush of heat and blissful weakness that kissing Edward evokes in me takes me once again by surprise. I even let go a pathetic little whimper when he breaks the kiss and straightens up again.  _Geez..._

"Maybe one day you can talk to someone professional, you know, to help you recover those early memories?" I manage to ask when my wits return after a few deep breaths.

"I'm not sure I want that."

_Okay..._

I clear my throat. "So, it was all about the spilled milkshake?"

"In part, yes. I felt like freaking out and the first thing I thought to do was to go home and get rid off the sticky clothes. But there was more -"

"Wait," I cut in as a sudden flashback hits me. "I recall something about you and uhm... spillage, I think. Do you remember the day I when I almost had a heart attack because I thought you had drowned in the pool?"

He gasps. "You thought I had drowned? No, I... when?"

"I hadn't kept my eyes on you for just a second or so, I don't know. We were in the garden that day. Anyway, when I looked up, you were gone. And your clothes were lying in a heap next to the pool. I panicked because I swear, in my mind I already saw your lifeless body floating in the water. But thank God, when I checked the pool, it was empty. So I went looking for you everywhere, but-"

"I was in the closet."

"Yes, you were. And you were curled up into a ball and shaking. You were totally freaking out because you had accidentally spilled juice on your sweater!"

"Cherry juice," he confirms, again with his impeccable memory. "I was out of my mind there for a moment."

"Was it the same today? Were you like trying to hide from me?"

He shakes his head no. "I wasn't trying to hide from  _you_  back then neither. I was just... hiding. I don't know why. I left the closet immediately when I saw it was you, remember?"

"Yes, that is true. And you calmed down quickly after I had put your clothes into the washer."

"I calmed down when you cleaned me up," he says. "You washed my hair that day."

"I did?"

His gaze softens and he lies down next to me, mirroring my position and leaning on one elbow with his head resting in his palm. My breath hitches a little, from the sudden proximity and the way his eyes hold mine.

"You washed my hair and sang to me. And you gave me my secret name that day. When I saw you again on Saturday, this was one of the first memories that came back to me."

I need to let my head sink onto the pillow and lie down to wait for the butterflies in my stomach to settle, before I can say anything. He follows suit, again mirroring my move and facing me.

"I remember," I finally whisper and put my palm against his chest.

In the light of this new insight, I also look differently at some of the most recent events, like the fuss he made about cleaning my bed sheets, or how hard-wired his mind was on washing my legs after we got carried away on the kitchen floor.

"I'll try to remember that spilled liquids are still an issue for you," I promise. "I'm sorry that I laughed about it."

He covers my hand with his own. "I forgive you," he simply says.

With any other man, I would immediately check for signs of arrogance or sarcasm if he said something like that instead of the usual placation. But not with Little Green. He just tells it like it is. He didn't get my amusement at his misfortune in the car and was hurt, but he doesn't hold it against me and he doesn't want me to feel sorry.

So he forgives me. All good, right?

Surprisingly, his declaration actually makes me feel better. "I'm glad. Thank you."

He lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses my knuckles. One or two butterflies in my stomach decide they're still good for another round of fluttering.

"You know," he says between knuckle-kissing, "I do get the concept that clumsiness and spillage and things knocked over and such is funny for most people. It's like the Three Stooges, when they throw pies into each others' faces." He stops kissing and furrows his brows. "But I assure you that a pie in my face would freak me out just as much."

"I'll try to remember that, too," I say, trying hard not to laugh this time.

He notices my distress, but to my relief he doesn't take offense but grins at me. "That was funny, right? What I just said?"

"Yes, it was," I giggle.

"Because you would never throw a pie in my face?"

I snort. "Chances are virtually zero." He chuckles quietly in response, and my heart jumps for joy, seeing him so lighthearted. "Okay, no laughing at spillage accidents, no pies in your face. Anything else?"

"Yes, there's more," he answers, suddenly serious again. Our still joined hands come to rest on the sheet between us as he bites his bottom lip, searching for words.

"My soaked shirt was uncomfortable, but really... I'm no longer a child and I wouldn't have freaked out like I did if it had been just that."

"Okay..." I say, encouraging him to continue.

"I felt so stupid. I didn't get you, you know. What you said and did in the car... I didn't get that you were just kidding until you laughed. I took you seriously; I was totally taken in. I even... when you touched me and said you wanted to do it right then... the milkshake wasn't the only thing spilled. You were just joking with me, but I thought you meant it, so I got too excited and came in my pants. And then you laughed, and I felt so stupid."

I stare at him, dumbfounded. He thought I was just messing with him? Crap, is he even serious?

"I shouldn't have asked you in the first place," he continues to berate himself. "That was just... stupid, too. Of course, you don't have to take my penis in your mouth, but I didn't know you were kidding. That's almost the worst thing about it, you know, that I didn't get you. Actually, it happens quite a lot since I've got you back. It's not like when we were kids; it's different now... complicated."

_Wow!_

"But of course, I get it now. I still don't personally find it funny, but I get the concept of this kind of humor and, well... no pies in my face, no cum in your mouth, right?" He smiles wryly.

Pretty much rendered speechless, the only thing I can think right now is,  _'What a clusterfuck!'_ And the only thing I can think of doing right now is pulling him in a tight embrace. And so we hold each other, arms winding around waists and necks, legs entangled like a pretzel.

"I'm just glad we were alone in the car and I didn't embarrass you in front of anyone," he mutters.

"Oh my God, Edward!"

I can't stand it any longer. It's time for me to speak, even though I haven't sorted everything out in my mind yet.

"Listen to me! First of all, you could never ever embarrass me in front of anyone. And you don't need to bend over backwards to be someone you are not. Because to me, you are..."

I was going to say 'perfect', but he won't buy that.

"... you are  _my person_ , just the way you are. I don't want it any other way, okay?"

He swallows hard and I can feel him nod yes against my neck.

"Okay," I continue, "and second, I was  _not_  kidding. I was like, you know, teasing you a little, but that's something different. I was being playful, but I meant every word I said."

His head jerks up and he looks at me incredulously. "Really?"

" _Really_  really," I assure him. "And I  _loved_  that you asked me. I _loved_  that you were turned on because I took that sausage into my mouth... I mean... that was what made you ask, right?"

He nervously licks his lips before he answers, "Yes. How do you know? Just thinking of it makes me..."

He doesn't need to finish his sentence. I can feel what thinking of it is making him. I can feel the result twitch against my belly.

"I know," I tell him. "And I love it. When you talked to me like that and I saw your erection, I was so aroused; you have no idea. I meant every word I said, teasing or not. And when I laughed, it was only in part because of the milkshake stunt you pulled, but much more because I was so elated about the effect I had on you. It was really... fucking hot!"

"Fucking hot?" he repeats, still bewildered. But there's a smile trying to steal itself onto his face, as comprehension slowly sets in.

"Abso-fucking-lutely hot!" I confirm.

"Fuck..." he mutters. His breathing has become a little labored.

"You can say that. You want me to prove my point?" I sneak my hand down between our bodies, his happy trail directing me.

"I believe you," he says. "You don't have to... ohhh..."

My fingertips have merely brushed the tip, yet he jerks and gasps at my touch. Seeing his strong response is a huge turn on; I involuntarily squeeze my legs together. Wrapping my hand around the base of his cock, I tease, "So you believe me now, huh? Do you want me to stop?"

"Fu... I mean, no... please..." he whispers.

His eyes are still glued to mine, wide open, and I love how they seem to darken with desire.

"Say it," I dare him. "I like it when you swear."

"I don't even know why I want to say such words when you touch me like this. I... I should tell you how good it feels instead, but it's like a compulsion."

"Please don't hold back. It's kinda hot when you swear because it means that I'm doing this right." I pump him a few times and he draws in a sharp breath.

"Or this..." I swirl my palm around the head, gingerly first but a more firmly as I notice the bit of precum that's already there.

"Yes," he breathes.

He is so hard for me; he feels amazing. The knowledge that I am doing this to him is intoxicating. I'm getting high on the feel of the velvety texture of his skin in my hand, the heat, the faint pulsing. I want to see his beautiful cock. I want to pleasure him. I want to taste him.

I want him in my mouth. Now.

With the slightest push against his hip, I make him roll onto his back easily. I whip off the comforter, rest my head on his chest and just enjoy the view for a moment; he is as pretty down there as I remembered. Forming a ring with my thumb and index finger I resume my stroking, mesmerized by the sight of the glistening, pink head slipping in and out of his foreskin. It has my lady bits throbbing.

Edward's breathing has turned into panting; his hands which lost their hold on me as I rolled us over, are like frozen mid-air near to my shoulders.

"You like that, don't you?" I ask unnecessarily, but he grants me a husky 'yes' anyway. I scoot a littler higher, until I can lay my cheek close to his.

"Let's look at it together," I say. I have no idea where this bold persona is coming from, other than that this beautiful man is bringing my inner goddess out with his mere presence.

He lifts his head the tiniest bit to look down on himself and a dark groan ripples through him.

"Doesn't it look perfect?" I whisper. "It's beautiful, right? Oh God, see how beautiful we are together..."

This time I only get a nod and a quiet little moan. I'm beyond excited and turned on myself. The precum has worn off a little, so I bring my hand to my mouth and spit on it before I reach down again and circle my now slick palm over his glans.

"Bella..." he moans, and finally his hands are on my neck and shoulders again.

"Does this feel good?" I ask with my lips against his ear. "I want to know what feels good for you, love. I want you to show me. Can you do that?"

" I don't know... everything you do feels good, I can't even... just do what you want... anything..."

Well, I certainly know what I want to do. Who knew I would ever _crave_  giving a blow job like this. I slowly scoot down on him, kissing and licking a wet path along his torso. When I slip out from under his hands, his arms fly up and he rakes his fingers through his hair. There they stay, gripping two fistfuls of strands, as he looks at me wide-eyed.

His hips jerk as I place kisses on each of his hip-bones, down the lines of his 'V' and the sensitive insides of his thighs, deliberately avoiding his now twitching erection. I sit back on my heels between his legs, grab his cock again and look up at his face. His jaw has gone slack and his eye-lids are half-closed. He is panting harder now and his gaze is intense, half hidden under his long lashes, but even more clouded by unadulterated lust.

I catch myself rubbing my throbbing clit against my right heel. Jesus, I am dripping down there. I feel weak and powerful at the same time. Shit, does that even make sense? It's like I can hear my own blood rushing through my veins. I might be salivating at this point.

I bend forward and draw the tip of my tongue along the underside of his penis, from the base up to that sensitive little band of flesh right under the head. Edward arches his back and gives a few sharp gasps. When I look up again, both of his hands are clutching the headboard behind him. I feel compelled to inform him that...

"… I want to make you come with my mouth."

"Fuck!"

_Score!_

I moisten my lips and then wrap them around just the tip, sucking lightly. More gasps, and more hips bucking... I even hear the headboard creaking once. I hope he won't break it, even though the idea is kind of erotic for some reason.

I move my mouth up and down on the head a bit, never making it quite past the sensitive ridge. I swirl my tongue around every time I move upwards, reveling in the way it makes him squirm. God, I want to see his face...

With a quiet plop I release him and peek through the curtain of my hair. That's when I realize that he probably cannot see a thing, which is a pity. I could tell he enjoyed watching when I had my hand on him earlier.

"Can you hold my hair, baby? I want you to watch what I'm doing. Would you like that?" Have I ever felt that bold and confident before?

"Oh yes," comes his raspy reply. He lets go of the headboard and starts stroking my hair out of my face and bundling it up into a ponytail, his hands taking turns at holding it together at the back of my head in a tight fist. He keeps doing this - running his palms up on my temples, my forehead, the nape of my neck – until he is sure that not a single lock has escaped him.

He is clasping my makeshift ponytail in one hand now, and stroking my cheek with the other, watching me almost reverently. And when I lower my mouth again, I feel him give my hair a brief, excited tug. I don't know if he even noticed what he just did, but I do know that it's one of the most erotic things ever!

I'm still rubbing myself on my heel for some much needed friction. I'm so turned on it's not even funny. This time, I take... well, not all of him but as much of him as possible. Even though my gag reflex thankfully borders on zero, I still can work the base of his erection with my hand after my lips glided down the shaft as far as they would go. Then I go all the way up again, hollowing my cheeks and twirling my tongue.

Edward's breath mingles with quiet noises of pleasure each time he exhales. He's getting more vocal by the minute, and I'm done teasing. I start bobbing my head in earnest now, and a big groan erupts from his chest.

"Fuck," he moans. And again, "Fuck..." His hand falls from my cheek and searches for mine where I'm holding his hipbone. Our fingers entwine in a tight grip, and oh God... he is pulling my hair! A strong feeling of power surges through me, as he gasps out more expletives, each one hitting my insides like a hot shockwave.

"Fuck, Bella... goddamn... fuck, fuck, fuck, ffff... oh... oh ffffuuuuck...!"

Just when I think I might orgasm myself any moment, I'm brought back from my high by hot spurts hitting the back of my throat and a sharp pain on my scalp. He throws his head back and gives a loud roar of sorts. If I didn't know that it's a sound of pure pleasure, I might think he just got stabbed in the heart...

_Jesus, that was quick!_

I swallow rapidly, but some bits make it onto the back of my tongue anyway and I can't help but grimace a little at the salty taste. Definitely not as 'yummy' as I was hoping. But oh, to see him lose control like that was so worth it!

I plant a last kiss on his softening penis, making him jump, and smile to myself.  _Sensitive, is it?_

"Edward, could you let go of my hair now, please?"

He does so immediately, at the same time releasing my slightly tortured fingers from his death grip. Both his hands fall limply to either side of him. I straighten up and marvel at the beautiful man in front of me, the way his closed eyelids flutter, the rise and fall of his chest as he tries to catch his breath. I did that!

"How do you feel?" I whisper, and his eyes fly open.

In true Little Green manner, he thinks about it for a moment. And of course, being his adorable self, he doesn't come up with any dutiful praise like 'fantastic' or 'amazing'. When he's done deliberating, he says, "I'm feeling out of it. I don't even think I could walk right now."

"Does that mean, it was as good as you imagined it in your fantasies?"

"God, no... I couldn't have imagined  _this_!" he says, shaking his head. "Not in my wildest dreams. It was unbelievable.  _You_  are unbelievable."

_There. A compliment at last..._

I flash him a bright smile. I cannot keep a smug face for the life of me; he is just too endearing, flushed face, bed hair and all. Also, renewed life seems to be returning to his limbs. Well, to some of them anyway. He reaches out one hand to me and I gladly take it, giving a little squeeze.

"Bella, was it... did you enjoy this, too?"

I don't have the heart to tell him that I would have appreciated a little warning, to be honest. Not now anyway. I fully intend to practice in the future, like, a lot. So for now, I'm just going to show him how much I enjoyed it, because... hell yes, I did.

I get up on my knees and guide his hand between my legs. "Can you feel this? How wet I am? That is how much I enjoyed it."

"Fuck, Bella..." he sighs.

"Good?"

"God, yes!" He pulls his hand back, and I almost whimper as I watch him put his index and middle finger into his mouth.

"Do you know what's also good about this?" I inquire.

Still sucking on his fingers, he shakes his head no. I giggle at the sight. He looks like the proverbial kid who just had his hand in the cookie jar.

"Look!" I say cheerfully, grazing my fingertip along his now flaccid cock.

He raises his brows questioningly. "What?"

I grin at him.

"No spillage!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :o)


	26. Chapter 26

(BELLA)

I can only remember one time in my life when I woke up in a blink, without so much as a mental backward glance on a night's sleep. Like, you know, just opening my eyes and wham – new day!

I remember it was the night before Christmas when I was ten years old. I had been so incredibly excited that sleeping seemed to be impossible, and I lay in my bed, wide-awake. And suddenly, I opened my eyes and it was morning, and I couldn't even remember falling asleep.

Today is the same… instant awareness. I'm absolutely not a morning person, so this total lack of doziness is pretty damn special for me. I try to recall when and how I fell asleep last night, but to no avail. All I know is, it is Wednesday morning, I'm chipper as hell, this is Edward's bedroom and Edward's bed – sans Edward – and someone is moving around outside of this room.

Which is probably Edward, and he is probably in the kitchen, judging from the nature of those occasional little noises.

There's no alarm clock in this room; at least I can't see one. I have no idea what time it is, but it doesn't bother me. I know, Edward has a built in clock… well, usually anyway. Yesterday's spillage-induced episode doesn't count.

I get up from the bed, quite jauntily, and pick my tee shirt off of the floor. I scan the area around my naked feet, but for some reason, my panties seem to have left without so much as leaving a note. With a shrug, I put the tee on and pull its hem down as far as it goes, which is barely mid-ass, but hey… it's just Edward and me here. And is that freshly brewed coffee I smell?

Following the quiet clanking and clattering, I tip-toe to the kitchen. When I poke my head through the door crack, I smile at the sight before me and the warm tingling in the stomach it gives me.

Edward making breakfast, totally immersed in his task.

And totally naked.

And totally gorgeous.

I take a deep breath and when I release it, it comes out in an audible sigh. Startled, I quickly cover my mouth with my hand, but Edward didn't hear me over the gurgle of the coffeemaker. He doesn't turn around but keeps on working smoothly and methodically, fetching plates, bowls and mugs from the cupboard, and arranging them on the counter in pairs.

I love the way his back muscles flex each time he reaches up; I think I could watch this all day. I even love the scattered moles on his back, if only because without them he would be ridiculously immaculate. He is just so beautifully made, tall and lean. My eyes fixate on the faint tan line at his small hips and the cute dimples above his bottom.

He's got a pretty butt, not one of those flat man-asses with hollow buttocks. His cheeks are nicely rounded and firm, and I think about how soft the light hair on them feels under my palms. I lean my head against the doorframe and another sigh escapes me.

_Jesus Christ, am I really standing here, contemplating the qualities of male butt cheeks?_

Finally noticing my presence, Edward turns around. I need to avert my gaze from his lower half, or else I'll be contemplating penis qualities next. Our eyes connect and he freezes.

"Bella…"

"Hey there," I say. I open the door fully and finally move the rest of me into the kitchen, too.

"You're awake."

"Well, yes." I smile at him, but he stays put, a slightly displeased expression on his face.

"I'm making breakfast," he states the obvious.

"I can see that." Jeez, what's with the frown?

"You're not supposed to be up yet."

"Am I not?"

Nervously, he starts messing with his hair. "I wanted to surprise you, but now..." he trails off, at a loss.

I slowly walk over to him. "But I  _am_  surprised; this is so sweet of you," I assure him. "You want me to go back to bed until you're done?"

His hands reach for my hips as soon as I'm close enough. "No," he whispers.

I can't help the chuckle. "Need some help? I'll just go and put my panties on." If I can find them, that is.

"No." He pulls me closer and... oh, hello! Someone's waking up down there.

"Good morning, Bella."

I wrap my arms around him and nuzzle his neck. "Good morning to you, too. Did you mean 'no, I don't need help' or did you mean, 'no, don't put panties on'?"

"Both."

He closes his eyes and tilts his head, inviting me to take advantage of the now completely exposed area of skin, which I shamelessly do, nibbling and kissing. Man, this jawline is killing me; I feel the urge to bite down, but I resist. I think I've scored the most gorgeous boyfriend on the planet.

He turns his head a little further to the side, clearly enjoying my caresses. "I'm happy that you're up," he almost purrs.

I can feel his happiness press into my stomach. His hands reach around to cup my behind, and my girly bits are about to start weeping because of being left out of the party.

"And I like that you're not wearing your panties," he says softly, and after a moment of deliberating he adds, "…baby."

_Weeping! Girly bits… definitely weeping now… good Lord!_

"So what are we going to do now?" I ask somewhat shakily.

He reluctantly breaks away from me to look me in the eyes. "You just sit down and let me serve you breakfast; it will be ready in a few minutes. Or you can grab a shower, if you'd like. What would you like to eat? Do you like cereal? I can make scrambled eggs, or…"

"Actually, I never have breakfast before leaving for work. I usually have a quick snack at the drugstore before we open. This is a bit overwhelming, to be honest. I don't even know if my stomach can manage solid food this early."

"Oh…" Cue Little Green signature frown.

"But the coffee smells wonderful," I hurry to say. "Can I have some of that?"

Immediately, his face lights up with a happy smile. "Yes, sure!"

Without further ado, he grabs me by my shoulders, gently turns me around, and then puts his arms around my middle. Holding me close, my back flush to his chest, he starts moving. I squeal with surprise as he duck-walks me over to the kitchen table, peppering my neck with kisses along the way. Giggling and stumbling, we awkwardly shuffle through the short distance, fortunately without accident.

I love this so much about Little Green... that he doesn't dwell on the fact that I practically rejected his sweet gesture. With Jake, a situation like this would have evoked a snarky retort on his behalf, most likely followed by a few days of silent treatment.

But, not Edward. I absolutely adore his ability to let go of his disappointment just so, processing the information given and moving on happily. And that's exactly what he's doing now.

As soon as I'm seated, Edward gets to work. He takes the two mugs he had placed on the counter earlier and puts them next to the coffeemaker, which finally has stopped sounding like Darth Vader having an anxiety attack. Before proceeding with the coffee though, and much to my amusement, he methodically sorts all of the other dishes back into the cupboard.

_Of course... that's so him!_

I smile to myself. And I thoroughly enjoy watching him clearing the space of the no longer required items. I love how he is so uninhibited, innocently walking around in all his naked glory, as if totally unaware of his fully erect cock bouncing with every step. I squeeze my legs together under the table.

_Girly bits... more weeping... damn!_

When everything is finally to his satisfaction, he pours us two coffees and brings them over to the table. Before he can put the mugs down, I rise from my chair, stopping him in his tracks.

"Edward..."

Following my gaze with his eyes, he looks down at himself and sighs. "It just won't go away," he mumbles apologetically. "I can't help it when you're around. I cannot will it away, you know."

He swallows noisily. I raise my head in time to find him looking at me again. "Here's your coffee," he says, all business, and hands me the steaming mug. I take it from him with both hands as if I'm on autopilot and draw in a sharp breath.

"Careful, it's hot."

_No shit!_

I quickly turn the mug in my fingers to grab it by the handle, as Edward continues unperturbed, "Also, when you smell like making love, I just cannot stop thinking about making love to you."

I gape at him.

"And Bella, right now, you  _do_  smell very much like making love. It messes with my mind."

"Well, I cannot help it either," I whisper, blushing. "When you're around and we're close like this, it just happens."

"I know," he says, and for some reason those two simple words make my breathing speed up.

"Is it bad that I don't want either of us to do anything about it? Because I don't want to. Not really. I just... I don't want this to stop, the excitement, your scent... I don't want it to stop. But you need to get ready for work soon."

I take a deep breath. "Soon. But not now."

"Twenty-seven minutes until your normal wake-up time."

_See? Built-in clock._

"I could skip the shower."

He thinks about it for a moment. "Thirty-seven then."

I nod my head yes. "And dry blowing my hair takes ten minutes, too. No shower, no wet hair."

"Forty-seven."

"And other than the bus, you won't have to stop a dozen times on the way. If you're driving me, we'll gain another fifteen minutes. That's an hour, give or take."

He releases a shattered breath and blinks rapidly a few times. Then he just stares at me, with his brows knit together and open-mouthed. It's that kind of  _'does she mean what I'm thinking she means?'_  stare, and I chuckle quietly. We're probably producing quite an odd sight, facing each other in our naked and in my case half-naked state, both of us holding – and totally neglecting - a coffee in one hand.

Speaking of which, the mug in Edward's hand starts shaking somewhat dangerously. In fact, all of Edward is swaying back and forth a little at this point. The premonition of an impending spillage accident makes me grab his wrist to steady him. I'm not taking chances here!

"Why don't we just go back to bed," I whisper, trying to sound seductive, and he finally snaps out of his trance-like condition and steps a little closer to me. When the tip of his erect cock brushes against my stomach, he flinches at the sudden contact, and a bit of his coffee splashes over and down to the tile floor.

_Oh. Fuck._

Edward looks down at the small, brown-ish pools and freezes, breathing heavily through his nose, and I internally brace myself for his reaction. Crap, this was so not supposed to happen…

Not taking his eyes off of the floor, he suddenly speaks. "An hour?" he asks.

I nod my head yes, although I know that he can't see it, but I'm too much in shock to answer him verbally. I'm just holding my breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Bella," he breathes and slowly lifts his head. The gaze of his green eyes is intense and eerily calm as he licks his lips and says, "I want to go back to bed with you."

_Okay…_

Mechanically, I nod my head once more.

_Wait… what?_

"What?" I squeak.

Instead of answering me, he jumps into action like a sprinter at the starting shot. The still untouched coffee is ripped from my hand and is disposed of in the sink together with its twin brother before I can even blink twice. Then Edward is on his knees in front of me, wiping frantically at the floor tiles with a kitchen towel.

It only takes him a few seconds to remove the puddles, just enough time for me to notice that inspite of the loathsome spillage accident, he's still sporting an impressive erection. In practically no time, he is on his feet again.

After peering at the kitchen floor one last time, he takes my hand and I find myself being dragged towards the bathroom, where the soaked kitchen towel gets a free flight into the laundry basket. Then he turns around to face me. His gaze wanders up and down my body a few times, and I feel my cheeks heat up under his scrutiny.

_What the hell…?_

"Take the shirt off," he suddenly says, and I blush even more at his surprisingly commanding tone. This is new and… kind of hot, and more so when he contradicts himself next by adding a soft, "please."

A new wave of want washes over me and I'm getting almost uncomfortably wet down there. I only notice that I am staring at his beautiful hard-on, unmoving, when he gets impatient with me.

"Please take it off," he pleads and points a finger at my tummy. "There's coffee on it."

"Oh!" My eyes snap to where he's pointing. "I didn't notice."

_And here I was thinking…_

Once more I feel my blood flooding my cheeks, this time for a totally different reason. Damn! He just wants to get rid of the spillage evidence, a continuation of his cleaning frenzy in the kitchen. What's next? Doing laundry together?

On the other hand, I should be glad he took the accident so well this time. He doesn't seem to be upset which is good, right? And I have to hand it to him, he cleaned up the mess quickly and thoroughly. He dealt with it instead of freaking out. But seriously, I don't now how much more of those OCD buzzkillers I can take. I really wish I'd had at least a sip of the coffee.

"Bella…" His velvet voice right next to my ear jolts me out of my musings, and I start at his sudden proximity. "Bella, it doesn't matter. Just take it off, please. I want to take you to my bed so badly."

When I look up at him, all unpleasant considerations dissolve into thin air. His green eyes are smoldering, and all I can see in them is adoration and yes… a certain hunger, too, laced with impatience.

"Please?" He reaches for the hem of the teeshirt. "Allow me," he says, and I raise my arms and let him lift the fabric over my head, leaving me naked. Just as naked as he is. He half turns around, aiming at the laundry basket, and sends the tee flying.

Before it has even hit its destination, Edward's mouth is on mine and his erection nudges my belly. My lips part of their own volition and, when our tongues meet, my stomach explodes in liquid heat so intense that my knees buckle under me. My eager boyfriend's strong arms are the only things keeping me from sinking down to the floor with blissful weakness.

He breaks the kiss, and we both gasp in need for some air. I only manage to take one deep breath before he cups the back of my head with his hand and buries my face in the crook of his neck. With one arm still tightly wound around my waist, he almost crushes me against his form. His breathing is erratic and hot in my hair when he starts what I immediately recognize as one of those new Little Green word vomits.

"You smell so good, so good. And your skin... Bella, I cannot think when you feel and smell like that. My mind goes all wobbly and my thoughts are wobbly, too. No, they are like fringed... frayed thoughts, and I don't even mind. It's like being in shock, but different because I'm not afraid and I don't want it to stop. Ever. I'm burning inside, aching… but it's a good burning, and a sweet aching, and…"

His death grip on me loosens up a little, and I'm glad to find that, against expectations, my slightly shaky legs still carry me. He cups my face with both hands and presses his forehead against mine.

"…every so often I try to produce the sensation, even when you're not around. I think of you, or of you and me together. I close my eyes and think of something we did, like when I had my mouth on you in my parents' house or… when you touched me. And it works. When I think of you – of us – I can make myself feel the burning, like an electric jolt, only slower, you know what I mean?"

"Yes," I whisper breathlessly. "I do the same, love. Over and over."

"But it doesn't last, right? It never lasts long enough; it's not the real thing. It's just a memory-burn, and I'm afraid to wear it off, if I keep replaying my memories of us too often. Also, it's not the same at all… it's not like when you're really touching me; it's just a shadow of what I'm feeling when you're with me like you are now."

"I know."

"Please touch me," he moans. "Touch me, Bella, please…"

I notice that I haven't moved at all since he started talking. My arms are hanging limply from my shoulders like the arms of a ragdoll, and that needs to change! I put my hands on his sides, stroking his hipbones with my thumbs.

Edward draws in a sharp breath at my touch, and his stomach muscles clench. He closes his eyes and exhales a shuddering, "yesss…" Still leaning against me with our foreheads touching, his hands on my cheeks start moving, caressing my face ever so gently.

"Bella, I love you so much; I cannot think straight. I want to make love to you so badly."

Mesmerized, I watch a small bead of pre-cum form at the tip of his cock. I reach down and gingerly push back the soft foreskin, then spread the moisture over the swollen head. Edward flinches and all but whimpers, the sound going straight to my core. There's not much room for me to maneuver, what with him standing so close to me, but somehow I manage to wrap my hand around his length and give him a single slow stroke.

With a low groan, he throws his head back and pushes his hips forward. I continue pumping him as best as I can in the confined space between our bodies, loving the heat and the velvety texture of his skin under my palm. And Edward's face is a sight to behold, with his features contorted in pleasure and panting through his open mouth. My clit starts to throb in time with my racing heart.

Suddenly his arms are around me again, effectively immobilizing my hand between us. His head falls heavy onto my shoulder.

"Bella," he moans. "I cannot… I need to curse."

"You do?"

"Fuck, yes!"

_God, he is so adorable!_

We stay still for a moment, while he quietly utters a few more 'fucks', throwing in one or two 'shits' for good measure. Our breathing slows down a little, and eventually the string of muttered expletives stops. Still holding me tight, with my hand trapped between our bodies, he starts rubbing his forehead back and forth against my neck and shoulder.

"I'm so sorry I forgot to pick you up yesterday," he suddenly says.

_Wow, that's quite a topic change…_

"Oh no, don't even –" I try to interject, but he's on a roll again.

"No, listen. Things are different now. Since the moment you knew that you… God, it's so hard to think; you smell so good!" He firmly grabs my behind and rolls his hips, grinding against me. "When you said that you love me, something… kind of… shifted, you know. A big change, and it's permanent and now I… shit, why is this so hard?"

He loosens his hold on me and I take the opportunity to try and wiggle my hand free, but he stops me. "Please don't," he whispers and moves his hips forward, gently thrusting into my fist. Then he stills again.

_Jesus Christ...!_

"Edward, I'm not sure I can keep up with you right now."

"I know. I'm sorry, it's just… you see, those letters that Esme kept…"

_What the hell?_

"I thought about it and I don't want to read them. Not yet anyway. Because I'm scared that if I do, maybe I won't be able to forgive her. And I want to forgive her!"

I gasp.  _Seriously?_

"No, hear me out. Please, this is… I mean, we are here and I love you and you love me back, so…"

_He wants to forgive Esme? Just like that? And are we actually having this conversation while I'm more or less giving him a hand-job?_

"We're okay, aren't we?" he asks and looks up at me, needing reassurance.

So I nod and tell him  _'Yes, we are'_ , involuntarily giving his cock a little squeeze, as if for further confirmation. He gasps out another 'fuck' and crashes his lips on mine in a searing kiss that temporarily drowns most of my coherent thinking.

Much too soon for my liking, he pulls back. Once more our foreheads touch as we're both trying to regain some composure. His eyes are closed, but he isn't done talking yet; there's more. Somewhere in the back of my mind I'm wondering how much of our stolen hour we've already spent. And where the fuck were we anyway?

"I need you to keep the letters for me, so I won't read them."

_Oh, yes. Letters. Esme._

"Because we're okay, and Bella, you make me want to be a better person, a loving person. I want to be a good boyfriend and a good son, too. And I'm losing my mind right now because I want to lick you and taste that scent of yours on my tongue. Will you keep those letters for me?"

_Huh?_

"I need to work things out with Esme. I hate what she did, but I hate how it is between us now more, and… fuck, Bella, what are doing to me?"

_Yes, what am I doing to him?_

He opens his eyes to look down between us, and a deep groan rumbles through his chest. I follow his gaze to where my hands are… yes, both of my hands. One is still stroking his twitching cock; the other has disappeared between my own legs, moving in the same slow rhythm. When did  _that_  happen?

Reflexively, I pull my hand away from where I'm rubbing myself, but Edward snatches it mid-pull and brings it to his mouth. His lips close around my index and middle finger that are coated with my arousal, and his Northern light eyes bore into mine as he hollows his cheeks and moans around my digits.

"Oh God, Edward…"

_This is it; I can't take it any more!_

"Please, I want you inside of me," I practically whimper.

With a cry, he releases my fingers. "Fuck, yes… a thousand times… fuck!"

His hips thrust forward so fiercely that I lose my grip on him and my hand lands on his stomach. I can feel his tensed-up abs flutter under my palm. In fact, he is shaking head to toe now. Or is it me?

"I bought condoms," I blurt. "They're in my purse, in the bedroom."

That's all it takes. For someone who claims to have trouble thinking around me, his reaction time is quite remarkable. In one swift move, he scoops me up with one arm around my shoulders and the other under the back of my knees, and heads for the bedroom.

I hang on to him with my arms around his neck. And I don't let go as we plonk down onto the bed together, with the mattress bouncing underneath us. In no time, I'm on my back with Edward on top of me… with Edward  _everywhere_  on top of me, kissing, licking, undulating and grinding against me.

I'm really glad now that I brought myself to buy my first pack of condoms ever yesterday. Maybe I should have considered purchasing them somewhere else than Denali's; I really would have been just fine without Tanya's advice on the matter of safe sex, penis sizes and the benefits of banana-flavored latex. But nothing of that matters now.

"Baby," I pant, "please, I don't want to wait… my purse, on the nightstand…"

He runs the flat of his tongue along my throat, as if he hasn't heard me. His breath comes in short puffs, hot against my skin. "Letters?" he asks hoarsely.

_What the hell? Sweet Jesus…!_

"Condoms?" I give back.

"Bella, please."

_For fuck's sake…_

"I'll keep the letters!"

"I'll get the condoms."

_Oh, thank fuck…_

_  
_


	27. Chapter 27

(EDWARD)

Now… God, now! We need to make love.

This is urgent. Her body, her voice, even the taste of her skin… all urgency, all need, mirroring my own. But I'm torn. My mind keeps displaying the image of Esme's card box to me, over and over. It is screaming at me to open it, and it gets louder and louder by the minute.

"Letters?" I hardly get the word out. Did I even? Hard to tell over the humming noise in my head.

She needs to agree to keep them away from me; I mustn't have them and I don't know who else to give them. I don't want to think about what stories those letters might tell any more; when all I want, all I need is her body. I can't wait to be inside of her.

"Condoms?"

Fuck, yes, and I  _can_  be inside of her; she bought condoms! She is so wonderful. Although it should have been me buying them. She smells wonderful, too. It's the boyfriend who buys condoms, is it not? I should have been more considerate. God, she smells so good. Can't she just…

"Bella, please." I want to say more, but I've said so much already, and I really don't know how else to explain myself. I lick her throat, where the heat and taste of her skin is particularly intense for some reason. I want to lick other areas of her body, too. I want to lick all of her. If only she would…

"I'll keep the letters!"

The humming stops. Yes!

Oh God yes… "I'll get the condoms."

I detach myself from her and sit up on my heels. Leaning back, I reach for the nightstand. I find Bella's purse, open it and turn it upside down, emptying its content onto the mattress. Belatedly, I notice that in doing so, I kind of invaded her privacy. I should have handed her the purse for her to get the condoms out of it, I guess?

Her most personal things are now scattered on the bed; I didn't know women carry so many and varied THINGS with them. And is that cookie crumbles there between the chap stick and the pepper spray? Where are the condoms?

"The blue package," she says, and I see it and grab it. And then I'm all over her again, with my elbows next to her face, one hand cupping the back of her head and the other clutching the small blue package. I should open it and sheath myself before I do anything else. But Bella has shoved one leg between mine and her hip is pressing against my penis, and I want to curse again, because we're moving together, grinding against each other, and it just feels too good… too good to stop. I really want to be inside of her. I don't want to come this way, but…

"Fuck, Bella, just… fuck!"

"I know, love," she whispers. "Give it to me. Let me…"

I have no idea what she's asking for, until she reaches up, groping for my hand. I'm clutching the condom pack so hard; it takes me a moment to order my fingers to release it. And then it is no longer my concern, as Bella takes over. When she brings both her hands in front of her face to open the package, I scoot down a little so I can put my mouth around one of her nipples. They are hard and pretty, and I take turns sucking and lapping at both of them.

I lick them in slow circles and make a new memory… the feel of the tiny pebbles on her areola under my tongue? I think I never noticed those before. I flick my tongue faster and faster, until Bella moans loudly and throws her head back. The paper wrapping in her hands gives way with a ripping noise and the condoms shoot out of it like little flying saucers.

One lands between her breasts, and she quickly grabs it. We both giggle breathlessly until our lips meet, and I almost choke with happiness. It keeps bubbling up inside of me… all the happiness she gives me, the love, the excitement… pouring forward, filling me up to the very tips of my fingers that are weaving through her hair. And then it all erupts in a muffled noise I release into her mouth. I groan like an animal.

My lower half is pressed against her hip so hard it almost hurts, but it's good. Only, it's not enough. I break our kiss to tell her that, but instead, I produce that noise once more. She squirms under me and pushes at my chest, so I guess I somehow told her anyway. My body responds and follows her gentle lead just like that, and I'm hovering above her on all fours before my scattered mind has even processed her intentions.

"Stay still," she says.

I barely register what she's doing with her hands down there. My consciousness is pulverized; there's only heat and want and beauty. I look into her eyes and let the beautiful confusion consume me. I'm not afraid; I know she will make me whole again. She always, always does.

Mere fragments of thought rise and waft though my mind, like small pieces of paper in the sparking breath of an open fire, each one briefly flaring up before they curl at the edges and tumble down and fall apart…

The condom, yes. Her touch. There, oh God, there… I stay still, like she asked me to. I look at her face. Her eyelids are cast down, her gaze trained on where her fingers are working, and… oh, fuck!

I look at her and I stay still, and she doesn't say it but… there you go, right? There you go…is it done? Am I… are we…? Oh God.

"Bella…"

Did she hear me? She looks up at me and… just please… I hope she doesn't want me to go slow! I need to be…

"… inside…"

…of her now! I can't do slow and I can't stay still anymore. Now, please now… can I? Her hand on my cheek, warm, loving, caring. I feel grounded for a moment and close my eyes. Where's her other hand?

My thoughts keep dancing and dying in the fiery breeze, but now as I lean my face into Bella's palm with my eyes closed, they do so in slow motion. Where's her other hand? My arms are shaking. How much time do we have left? Can I just… or… will I hurt her if…? She's wet already, right? I open my eyes. I look into hers. I find my voice.

"Can I push in now?"

Please. I love you.

"Yes," she breathes. Her eyes seem to melt. Her thumb grazes my lower lip. "Yes, you beautiful, beautiful man…"

She tells me I'm beautiful. I want to laugh because that's so absurd. I want to moan because it's beyond arousing that she thinks me beautiful. I do both. And then I just moan when I reach down between us, and there's her other hand… between her own legs, collecting some of her own wetness and coating my… the condom…

"Fuck, Bella!"

"Yes, please," she whispers. "I want to feel you."

My arms are shaking violently now; I sink down on my elbows. Better. I put my hands underneath her shoulders and just hold her and let her guide me to her entrance.

My hips buck but I don't slide home. Instead of getting inside, my penis just slips between her lips, all the way up until the tip brushes over the soft mound above. She's so wet, so wet…

My need to be inside her increases tenfold. I pull back to try again, but she cries out, "Oh God, yes, again!"

I don't know what she's asking, but my hips are moving anyway. There's no stopping it any more, and I cannot go slow. I just can't. I'm thrusting away, and her hand is still there, still slick… everything is slick and hot.

Her hand is now firmly placed between her thighs, leaving just a little space for the tip of my erection to glide in between her palm and her slit. And I can tell from the noises that mingle with her breathing that I am stroking her clitoris with each movement, and she likes it.

And I like it, too. And then again, not. It's frustrating and exciting and frustrating and… I know I'm going to come. Faster and faster I go, mesmerized by the look in her eyes and the way her upper lip pulls back and bares her teeth. Her breasts are bouncing beautifully with each of my thrusts. We're both getting really vocal… no words, just noises and moans. I don't even know if I really want to be inside of her any more. But yes, I do… I think?

"Edward," she pants, and her eyes go wide.

Yes, fuck yes… my Bella, my love… so much yes! Harder, faster, almost there. I love what I'm doing to her; I love it! I'm giving her pleasure, and it's beautiful and frustrating and driving me crazy.

"Don't stop," she grinds out through clenched teeth. "Don't fucking stop!"

I don't want to stop, but this won't last much longer. There's a trembling bead of sweat stuck at the tip of my nose. It falls down and Bella closes her eyes just in time before it hits her lid. I almost lose it, and then…

"Edward, you're gonna make me come" she cries and archs her back. "Coming… oh God… Edward, now! Fuck me!" My insides go up in flames. This is it…

Her hand closes the gap; her fingers press down where she's swollen and pink and even wetter now, and with my next thrust I'm suddenly inside and feel her clamp around me. I can't even pull back once more. I'm inside, and my legs, my backside, all my muscles tense and I pulse and throb and spill myself inside her, again and again… and again…

I don't make a sound; I don't breathe. I cannot move and I cannot breathe. I can only feel, with every cell of my body, with every fiber of my being.

I can only feel. I can only be.

When the pulsating ceases, I suck in some air like an almost drowning man who just made it to the surface at the very last moment. And when I release it again, it carries the sound that means love and life and everything good in the world.

"Bella…"

.

.

.

We make it just in time. I might have broken the speed limit a few times on the way, but I really wanted to drop Bella off at work punctually. However, we kind of ruin my effort by prolonging our good bye. She stays in the car, and between kisses, we tell each other in whispered words how wonderful our morning together has been, that we will miss each other during the day, and that we can't wait to be together again tonight.

I promise to never again forget to pick her up, and she says it's okay. I apologize for pestering her about the letters, and she says it's okay, too. I don't think she really understands my reasons, and it feels like a rift between our souls that she doesn't share my attitude about this. But there's nothing we can do about that now. And she is supportive nonetheless, so that'll have to do for now.

When she finally leaves the car, I wait until she's safely inside the store. I watch her having a quick exchange of words with Tanya; Bella swats her playfully and then they both laugh and look in my direction through the window. Tanya winks at me and Bella shakes her head and blushes. I wave at them, and then I drive off.

I have been thinking about Esme and the letters all morning. I woke up early to the warmth and smell of Bella next to me, and I knew I wanted to wake up like this every day for the rest of my life.

She was lying on her side, with her back to me and her hair fanned out on the pillow. And all I wanted to do then was revel in the moment, the sight and feel of her as she lay sleeping beside me, the love… always the love. So much feeling, so much love.

I wanted to look at her and maybe file through the painfully wonderful, exciting memories we both had created in the last few days, and pick one and replay it. I wanted to feel that blissful heat in my stomach and everywhere, the pull, the burning. And then I wanted to wake her up and let my hands and my mouth speak to her skin… and love her… and make more memories; those could never be taken away.

That's what I wanted. But it didn't work. The moment was tainted by the anguish I felt about how it was between Esme and I right now; my thoughts went there against my will, again and again. Like acid, it slowly ate its way through my peace of mind, perforating it to the point where I started to feel dizzy from fighting the images of letters and Esme and the fucked up family dinner – from fighting my anger.

I hate being angry. I hate the way it churns the stomach, and I hate the way it turns reasonable thinking upside down. It's almost like it has a mind of its own, invading, disrupting, making this mess inside my head. I will never understand how people can willingly hold a grudge toward someone for a long time, instead of doing everything and anything to make it stop. Don't they feel miserable?

Well, I did. Looking at the wonder before me, my sleeping girlfriend, and not being able to feel just love without the boiling heat of anger creeping its way into my thoughts made me feel incredibly miserable. It gave me ideas and images I seriously didn't want to see, and it raised questions and doubts I didn't want to process.

I even started getting mad at Bella for a second… she had been the older one, the stronger one, the  _normal_  one, the one capable of speaking and arguing! Why didn't she press Esme harder? Why did she believe Esme so easily? Why did she give up on me so soon?

What would I learn if I read the letters she had written? Did I really want to know? Maybe Esme had held them back to spare me the hurt. What if…?

My breath quickened with the rising misgivings; they made my stomach roll. Feeling anger towards  _your person_ , towards the one you love is the most horrible thing. I couldn't stand it. It was so agonizing that my chest constricted with a pained moan I could barely stifle.

No, no, no! I knew she had missed me; she said so. I knew she had never come to know how I had been begging for her to talk to me; those letters were all still sealed. I knew she loved me. I knew, I knew… and yet the anger and confusion wouldn't cease. And I wanted it to go away so badly.

Desperately, I leaned my forehead against her shoulder and whispered her name. She didn't wake up, but turned her head and rubbed her temple against my hair. Even in her sleep, she was responding to my touch, and as if that was all the answer I needed, the anger stopped. But the thoughts didn't.

So I decided to get up and make breakfast for us. I wanted to wake Bella early enough to sit down with me so we could talk. I needed to get the poison out of my system. I wanted to make peace with Esme, so I would be free to enjoy all the good that has come into my life.

I am home. I have my own place. I have a job that allows me to do what I love; rehearsals will begin next week, and I need a clear mind for that, too.

I have a girlfriend, and not any girlfriend – I have Bella. My Bella. And wasn't it Esme who gave her to me in the first place? She brought her into my life and let her become my Easybella, and whatever madness it was that made her keep us apart, I cannot believe she meant any harm. And maybe I had done my part, too? It's not like I had talked a lot as a child to make my needs understood, right?

And Carlisle… just when I feel like I'm finally getting somewhere with him, that shit had to happen and drive us apart again? This mustn't be. It's not worth it.

I have a family, and it's a precious gift. Not everyone is that lucky; I of all people should remember that. I have a family and a girlfriend I love. I even made a friend, if you want to call Tanya that. I think she's a friend. I have all that, and I should feel blessed and happy, instead of angry and doubtful.

What good does it do to feel angry? I have Bella back, so all's good in the end. And the past cannot be changed anyway. Both Esme and I are hurting; that has to stop first of all. We need to sort out the how's and why's, but later… much later. First we must stop the hurt and the anger.

I know that the ball is in my court. Neither Bella nor my parents will do anything or press me about the matter. They will be waiting for me to come around like always, right?

 _'At my own pace'_  as they used to say, meaning well but not realizing how much responsibility they always loaded onto me with that. How can you go at your own pace when their well-being is so clearly linked to your progress? It had never really been my own pace…

But it is what it is. I will take the responsibility; because if I don't, the situation will remain as it is for too long to not cause more damage. And I won't have it that way. Now that I know love, I want to love. No drama in my life.

It's all up to me, right?

.

.

.

Around eleven a.m., I have finally unpacked all my bags that were still untouched since the day of my arrival. I have done the laundry and cleaned the kitchen. I've made the bed but haven't changed the sheets because I like that they smell of love. I've dusted off the piano and vacuumed the carpet. Also, I have successfully fought back three minor anxiety attacks.

At 11:30, I call Bella. She makes me wait four rings before she answers, and I'm close to hyperventilating again.

"Edward?"

I breathe a sigh of relief at the sound of her voice.

"Edward, is something wrong? Why are you calling?"

Shit, I didn't say anything. Talking over the phone is still the hardest thing, even with Bella. I seriously need more practice.

"I just wanted to know whether you're okay."

I hear her snicker. "Edward, I am at work. Why wouldn't I be okay?"

"I don't know." I just had a feeling. I'm being irrational.

I can hear voices in the background. Of course, there are customers and Bella is probably busy. I shouldn't have called. I suck at it anyway. It's so annoying that phone calls still scare me. I suck when it's all reduced to words and a soulless technical device to transport them. Words bear too much power when they travel on their own.

"Edward, would you please say something? I'm getting worried here; are you all right?"

Shit, I didn't mean to make her worry. Even the lack of words has the power to produce unfortunate results when words are all you have.

"I need to get back to work. Please say something, Edward. Do you need anything? Should I –"

"I love you."

There's a moment of silence, except for the mumbling in the background. Then she says, "I love you, too." I can hear her smile, and I smile back at her even though she can't see me.

"I'm all right," I say. And because I know how much I suck on the phone, I add, "I'm smiling now, just so you know."

"That's good, love. I'm smiling, too."

"I know."

"Okay, see you later then?"

"Later then." I can't wait. "I'll pick you up."

"I can't wait," she says, repeating my thought, and hangs up. I'm smiling even more. I like it.

Well, that wasn't too bad. I think about what to do next for a minute, then I press the only other speed dial I have on my cell. This time, my call is answered after the first ring.

I don't wait for her to say anything. And I use her secret name to let her know right away that things will be all right and that I mean it.

"Mom, we need to talk."


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not just author's notes; there is a full length new LG&E chapter!!!
> 
> It comes in the shape of an outtake and it's brilliant.  
> It's what many of you have been asking for – Esme's side of the story –  
> and you can read it right now!

Back in Nov 2010, when this fic was just a one-shot, I got this review:

  


_"This was beautiful. The thing that hit me as so real about it was how sensitive he was to her scent. My 9-year-old son has Aspergers, and whenever he hugs me, he sniffs me. (…) I feel like I'm seeing ten years into his future when I read this. (…)"_

_  
_That's how I met **SqueakyZorro**.

When more and more readers said they would love an Esme POV, I immediately thought of her. I always knew that I would never write Esme, but if anyone could, it got to be her. That was months ago! I finally got my chance to ask her when I won her Fandom Gives Back one-shot auction.

  


So damn happy she agreed… And boy, did she deliver! She did not just write Esme, she  _became_  Esme.

Her insightful and touching LG&E outtake  **'Trust'**  took my breath away and brought tears to my eyes.  
I cannot thank her enough for how much thought and work and heart she poured into it!  
Get all your questions answered, and so much more.

** [www.fanfiction.net/s/8019434](http://fanfiction.net/s/8019434) **

**  
**

Please go and meet SqueakyZorro. Little Green is sending you.  
Leave her your thoughts and some love. I will read every review, just saying!  
Xoxo, Betti


	29. Chapter 29

 

(EDWARD)

I don't get a reply. But I can hear Esme breathe. And there's a faint rustle, too. Like paper, or cloth rubbing against something. Her breathing is really loud; she's breathing through her open mouth.

Am I supposed to say anything else? I don't think so. I made my opening, and now it's her turn – that's how it works. So I wait. It makes me anxious that she's not talking, but I wait. My ear starts to hurt from pressing the phone against it so hard, but I hang on until she finally speaks.

"Oh, Edward…" she says. Or, at least, I think that's what she says. It sounds like  _'hhhtwrt'_ , as if she's suffering from an affliction in her throat that stole all the vowels. It doesn't even sound like Esme. And then… nothing.

This is bad. She's even worse than I on the phone. I can't do this; it won't work this way.

"We should… Esme, could you maybe come over?"

More breathing, louder, some sniffling, and more hissed consonants. "…mso s'rry, gahd, sssoso s'rry…"

Right.

"I know. That's why I'm calling."

I'm clutching the phone so hard that all the blood is gone from my fingertips. The wheezing and sniffling at her end of the line gets even worse, and I don't know what to do. And then my heart starts beating so fast and so loud, it almost drowns out Esme's noises, when I suddenly realize what those noises mean. She can't speak properly, because –

"Don't…" I whisper, crestfallen. This is really, really bad. This is what I need to end. "Don't cry, please."

My heart is almost jumping out of my chest. I notice that I'm rocking back and forth in my seat; I have no idea when I started doing that, but right now it seems to be the only thing that keeps me from hanging up to escape the sound of her sobs.

Because that's what the sounds are… sobs! I'm pretty sure she didn't even hear my whispered plea; she's crying so noisily. I'm getting angry again. I'm angry at Esme for putting me through this, and I'm angry at myself for wanting to run away from this... fight or flight, fight or flight… there's no such thing like 'your own pace' when it's fight or flight.

But I'm rocking back and forth, and I find a rhythm. This rhythm is my own, and it centers me. Pulse rate, breathing, how often to blink and when to swallow – everything synchronizes with that rhythm. It's not exactly comfortable, but it's good enough for now. It takes away the edge and reminds me that I called her to stop the hurt, not to make it worse.

"Mom?" Her secret name cuts a swath of silence into her sorrow.

I'm rocking so vehemently now that the chair I'm sitting on inches forward with each of my movements. It's a rhythm, my own rhythm, a good one, a steady one – and it doesn't falter when I take the phone off of my ear, hold it in front of my mouth and speak with as much clarity and intent as I can muster.

"I forgive you!"

I don't know if she's replying, or crying again. With the phone held like this, I can't hear her, and I feel like a coward for avoiding her response. But I need to speak uninterrupted now, or else this won't work.

"You don't need to hurt anymore, and neither do I. I've decided that I don't want to be mad at you. It's too harmful... for everyone. I won't forget what you did, and I will ask you some day to explain why you did it, but not now. I'm calling, because I want you to know that I forgive you, so we can be good again. Will you stop crying now?"

Reluctantly, I bring the phone to my ear again and hold my breath. She's still crying: I really wish she would stop that. But, between hiccups and sniffles, she's at least speaking now, vowels and all, and I catch her mid-sentence.

"…wish I could undo it, Edward, I -"

"But you can't," I cut in, not willing to have any of that.

I think of last night when Bella found me sleeping, and my devastation when I realized I had forgotten to pick her up. I, too, had wanted nothing more than to undo it.

"I know how you feel," I tell Esme. "You want to fix it, don't you? But you can't. What is done, is done. I want you to stop crying, okay?"

I told her I forgive her; why is it not working? This is beyond frustrating.

"I made a terrible mistake, but I never meant to hurt you," she says, hoarse and breathless from all her crying.

"I know." I'm relieved she's finally responding rationally. My rocking slows down a bit, as does my heart rate.

"I love you, Edward."

"I know."

"I don't know if I can ever forgive myself…"

"Oh, but you have to!" I almost shout. "Because I do, I forgive you, okay? But if you don't stop resenting yourself for what had happened, this won't work!"

It will only get worse. Can't she see that? My chair slides forward another few inches; I'm getting really agitated. My heart has left my chest and is beating in my throat now, making it hard to breathe.

"You can't… Esme, no! You're belittling my... my forgiveness... it's worthless if you don't accept it."

She falls silent, except for her sniffling. What else does she want me to say?

"Mom, I miss you. I just want you back. I want  _us_  back!"

"Oh God, Edward, I miss you too – so, so much! You are the most wonderful, astonishing... I don't deserve you…"

"Yes, you do. Will you stop crying now?" Please, this is so exhausting. The talking, over the phone and everything... I can't do this much longer. "I'll hang up if you don't stop."

"I'll stop, I promise." She sounds calmer now, thank God! She sounds like Esme. "I can't tell you what it means to me to know that you're forgiving me. Thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart."

"You're welcome."

I stop rocking and fall forward in my chair with relief. With my forehead on my knees and the phone still glued to my ear, I take a deep, cleansing breath. I did it!

"I'll hang up now, okay?" I say, eager to get this over with.

"Do you still want me to come over? I can be there in thirty minutes."

I asked her to come over, didn't I? But that was when I thought she wouldn't speak on the phone. So I tell her, "No."

We're done for now, and I'm feeling drained. This was beyond exhausting, for whatever reasons. I just want to be by myself for a while now. Every single muscle in my body aches from the rocking and the tension, and my insides are filthy with the sticky remains of all the anger I felt in the last few days.

"I'm going to take a bath," I inform her.

"Okay. Can I call you tomorrow?"

"Sure. Bye."

I hang up before she can say her own good-bye and drop the phone as if it has burnt my hand. I'm pretty sure I won't use it any time soon. It is sweaty from my hands gripping it so tightly, but to me, it looks like it is wet from all the tears Esme cried into it, like it's unable to hold all the sorrow that's now bottled up in it. No, I won't touch that thing for at least a month.

My shirt is damp, too. I tear it off of me, but I still feel kind of soiled – as if my sweat and Esme's tears have acted as a solvent, strong enough to dissipate all resentments, but leaving a cold, icky film on my skin. I really need a bath.

I get rid of my remaining clothes on the way to the bathroom, where I dispose of them in the hamper. I turn the water on, and then I sit on the closed toilet lid and watch the tub slowly fill, wondering why I'm not really feeling better now.

I feel some relief, but I think that's just because my conversation with Esme is over and I'm not on the damn phone any more. As for the result of my effort, I'm disappointed. One would have thought forgiving someone was easier, or more appreciated by the recipient. I expected it to be much more joyful for both of us.

But there's no real joy coming with the relief. And Esme wasn't happy either, just calm. I don't regret my decision though. I meant it when I told her that I missed her. And judging by the way she sounded at the end, it worked. She's back with me now, I think. She's just still sad.

I wish I had Bella's ability to take away one's sadness so easily. She always knows the right things to say to lighten my heart, even when I've fucked up thoroughly. But I'm not Bella.

Maybe it is okay for Esme to be upset for a little longer, considering the size of the… problem? I was very upset with myself yesterday. And compared to forgetting to pick up your girlfriend just once, the mistake Esme made is… it is just…

"Ahh…" I groan and close my eyes. As I try to fathom the enormity of Esme's fault, my chest constricts with a sudden wave of regret that is not of my own making.

And she had kept it to herself all those years. Not even Carlisle knew about the letters. My stomach turns at the mere thought of living with such a poisonous secret, day after day, year after year, while it grows and festers under the surface until it is rooted in your soul so deeply that you cannot remember any more how it was without that dark abyss inside… no trespassing!

But those are not my regrets, not mine, and I need to push them away. Breathe and push them away… in, out, in, out… push them away.

I've missed the right moment to turn off the water, so I need to let some of it drain out of the tub again before I can get in. I don't like that; it's such a waste. The entire bathroom is fogged, so thick with water vapor I can hardly make out anything that's further away than an arm's length. But I don't want to see anything now anyway.

I let myself sink down into the bathtub, close my eyes and let the warmth consume me. I let the water swallow me whole, only leaving my mouth and nose above the surface. The water gently swirls my hair, laps at the corners of my eyes and fills my ears, until all I can hear is its dull murmuring and the thudding sonar of my own heartbeat.

Peace.

.

.

.

(A TRAILER PARK... SOMEWHERE, 1999)

Peace.

To the five-year-old boy, it didn't matter that his legs didn't fit in the yellow plastic tub. Its rim cut into the hollows of his knees, with a slight uncomfortable pressure, and his lower legs and feet were dangling outside, warmed by the sun. Yet they were covered in goose bumps, as was his whole body.

The water in the washing tub was chilly, and he'd been in there for too long. With his arms crossed above his chest, the boy had managed to dip into it almost completely. He had tilted his head back, so that chin, mouth and nose were poking out, but his eyes and ears remained under the surface.

He could hear the adults talking, but the water surrounding him reduced their conversation to a muffled, meaningless background noise. For that, the boy was glad. A few minutes earlier, they had tried to talk to him – which was weird, because they were _strangers_.

Well, except for the gray lady. The gray lady was a  _neighbor_ , and she was nice. She had brought him a sandwich this morning, and a glass of milk, too. Mommy didn't like her and she used to scream and shout at the gray lady when ever she saw her. But Mommy wasn't here now, hadn't been here for quite a while since her  _friend_ had picked her up with his rusty truck.

At first, it wasn't too bad, and the boy enjoyed the quiet. But on the third day, he had eaten all the white bread that was left. The milk in the fridge had become clotted and when he tried to drink it, he couldn't help but spit the mouthful he'd taken on the floor. Shocked by the foul taste and the spill, he rushed outside and hid under the trailer. That's where the gray lady had found him.

She brought him breakfast and called him by his name. She was nice. She asked a lot of questions – about his mommy, and whether he owned any other clothes than his pajamas… clean clothes, she said, and… who did that, who did that, pointing at the bruises on his arms and legs – but she didn't really demand answers. She didn't try to touch him or push him around. She was nice.

She also filled his plastic tub with water, even though she couldn't know about the spilled milk in the kitchen. He didn't want to raise her suspicion, so instead of washing his clothes as usual, he just stepped in with his clothes still on. He thought himself very smart to do so. The gray lady had watched him for a while, and then she got out her phone and talked into it for what seems an eternity.

And then the strangers came. One was an elderly lady with a big black bag, the other a younger lady who wore a police uniform. The boy hadn't known that ladies could be police officers, too, but there she was. They both talked to the grey lady and to each other, then they talked to him in soft voices.

At first, he had actually made an effort to listen, although he had no idea why those people were even here or what they wanted. He only got anxious when the police lady went inside the trailer, where she undoubtedly noticed the mess he had made. She returned with a grave expression on her face and whispered something into the other woman's ear. That's when the boy finally understood what was going on.

She was here! The one with the big, black bag… that was her! Finally, the cee-pee-ess lady had come to get him. The horror he felt at his realization was so excruciating, that he escaped in the only way he could think of right then. He squeezed his eyes shut, slid down in his yellow plastic tub and let the water work its magic.

And there he stayed. And waited. They had to leave at some point, right? He could still hear them talk, but now it was as if he were wrapped in thick layers of cotton wool.

Then there were hands touching him, hands under his arm-pits, grabbing him, lifting him up, out of his liquid cocoon. The boy threw his head back, his spine bent backwards in an angle one wouldn't think possible, and gave a piercing scream that lasted and lasted, until all oxygen had left his lungs and everything went black.

Peace.

.

.

.

(EDWARD)

I wake with a jolt, sitting up so abruptly that the bath water swashes around vehemently. I hold on to the rims of the tub with both hands, gasping for air, while the obscure remains of a strange dream dissipate like shreds of clouds.

I fell asleep in the bath, but I know it can't have been more than just a few minutes – the water is still warm – so that's not what startled me. It's the weird feeling that someone just grabbed me and pulled me upright. Of course, that's impossible. And I don't believe in ghosts either. But the sensation is so strong that I involuntarily check my torso for any traces... like visible hand-prints on my skin or something.

It's been a while since I've had that kind of dreams, those  _faceless grasper_  nightmares that used to torture me when I was a child. I guess the talk with Esme has stressed me out more than I realized. I'm such a baby sometimes. I should get out of the water before it gets chilly. After a few deep, cleansing breaths, I grab the sponge and start lathering myself thoroughly.

To steer my mind in a more pleasant direction, I start thinking of Bella, recalling our morning together. I'm very much looking forward to tonight. I imagine myself entering the drugstore to pick her up, saying hi to Tanya – maybe exchanging a few words with her – then greeting my Bella with a small kiss on the lips. It's a nice mental image; it makes me feel confident and…  _normal_. That's what boyfriends do. It feels right.

When I step out of the tub and grab a towel, I notice I've been quietly humming to myself for the last few minutes. I smile to myself, a warm whole-body-smile. Unconsciously, I hummed the melody that used to keep the  _grasper_  dreams in check. My voice reverberates strangely within the tile-covered walls as I repeat the lines, this time adding the lyrics.

" _Just a little green like the nights  
_ _When the northern lights perform  
_ _There'll be icicles and birthday clothes  
_ _And sometimes there'll be sorrow…"_

_\- - -_

**My own rendition of this beautiful Joni Mitchel tune (with minor lyric changes) Enjoy:**

[**http://audiofiction.blogspot.de/2011/02/little-green.html**](http://audiofiction.blogspot.de/2011/02/little-green.html)

_  
_


	30. Chapter 30

(EDWARD)

I've just maneuvered the car into a parking spot on the other side of the street when Tanya Denali steps out of the drugstore and waves me over. I'm really early and I know Bella won't be off for another thirty minutes. But I just couldn't wait at home any longer. I even tried to kill some time in Port Angeles and visited a few stores, or else I would have been here even sooner.

I was prepared to wait in the car, but apparently Tanya has other ideas. So I shut off the engine and wave back at her to let her know I'm coming, and well... just to return the friendly gesture. I'm very eager to see Bella and tell her about my phone conversation with Esme, so I'm really happy for the invitation. Pointing the remote back over my shoulder to lock the car, I jog across the street. It's only when I see Tanya grin and shake her head with a chuckle that I notice how much my cheeks are straining with my own smile.

"Wow, Eddy, I'd really like to think you are happy to see me, what with that gorgeous smile of yours," she laughs. "I'm not delusional enough to not know you didn't come for me, but I'll be damned – Bella is one lucky girl!"

I can't stop smiling, even when I have to turn my gaze towards her shoulder to avoid eye contact. With her, it's more like an old habit anyway, a precautionary move I feel is not really necessary. Actually, I am once more quite comfortable in her company.

"But I  _am_  happy to see you," I assure her and offer her my hand. This time she takes it, but instead of shaking it in greeting, she surprises me by putting her other hand on top of our joined ones.

"You know what's funny?" she says softly. "I kind of believe you."

"Like you should." I'm oddly at ease with the fact that she keeps holding my hand. Just like the last time, my eyes settle on her mouth, which is curled into a pouty smirk. Inspiration hits me and with a wink I tell her, "Also, you look 'hot damn' again today."

Abruptly, she lets go of me and snorts with laughter. "Come in, smart ass, before I change my mind."

I follow her inside, elated by the way things between her and I just seem to click. This feels so...  _normal_  – just friends saying hi and engaging in a good-natured banter. Who knew? I start wondering about the whereabouts of Bella though.

"I can't believe you just cracked a joke like that, Eddy," Tanya hollers back over her shoulder. "By the way, 'hot damn' right back at you. Is that shirt new?"

I look down on myself. "Yes, it is. How do you know?"

She stops and turns around. "No rocket science, my dear. May I...?"

She reaches for my left arm and pats it gently to indicate for me to lift it. Then she grabs something and pulls it forward for me to see. It's a price tag dangling on a thread from the side seam.

"Forty-nine ninety-nine? Worth every cent, if you ask me. Bella will be mush when she sees you in this. That green is exactly the color of your eyes; do you know that? "

Actually I do. That's why I bought it this afternoon. And because I know Bella likes green. I still don't see her. Maybe she's working somewhere in the back?

"Where's Bella, by the way?" I ask, trying to rip the tag off.

With a sharp intake of breath, Tanya interrupts my efforts. "Stop that, silly! You will ruin that pretty shirt. Come on, I have a pair of scissors somewhere in the back, I think."

She takes my hand and drags me through the store. Once again, I marvel at the lack of discomfort when she touches me. It happens so naturally; before I know it, we're in the backroom and she pushes me down on a chair. While she starts rummaging in a drawer, I realize she didn't answer my question.

"So... Bella?" I inquire. I'm getting a little nervous.

"Ah... sorry I didn't tell you earlier; Bella's not here."

Her answer hits me like a sudden punch in the guts.

_Not here? But she is supposed to be here!_

"But she asked me to keep you company," Tanya continues, still with her back to me. "You know, in case you showed up early."

I have no idea what to make of this piece of information… or how to make my stomach stop turning.

"I wonder how she knew," Tanya mutters amused, as if the fact that Bella is  _missing_  meant nothing. She turns around, wiggling her eyebrows, and holds a pair of scissors up. "Got the little fucker!" she cheers triumphantly.

But the shock must register on my face, because her grin dies as soon as she sees me. "Oh, fuck!"

In a heartbeat she's crouching in front of me, wide-eyed. "Crap, Edward, I'm sorry. Bella will be here in a few minutes; everything is okay. You're not freaking out on me here, right?"

I'm still trying to grasp what's going on and I'm freaking out alright, but I shake my head no for her. I don't want to scare her.

_Bella is okay; she will be here in a few minutes. Okay. Bella is okay… where is she?_

"Edward, can you breathe for me, just once?" Tanya snaps the scissors in front of my nose a few times. "Edward?"

_Am I not breathing?_

"I will do something terrible if you don't breathe, I swear."

_Like what? And where is Bella?_

I stare at her mouth incredulously.

"Listen, Bella is at Mrs. Schneider's, that's all. She's delivering goods, like every Wednesday. Old lady, wheelchair, chatty as hell, may take a while. Okay?"

I'm still staring. And I'm scaring her. Well, so much for me being normal around a friend...

"Goddammit!" She jumps up to her feet and points the scissors at me, dangerously close to my face. "Breathe the fuck now, or else I will shake the shit out of you!"

I take a deep breath.

_Bella is okay._

"I'd rather you don't," I tell Tanya.

"Jesus Christ," she mutters gruffly and rolls her eyes. "Lift your arm."

"Sorry if I scared you. I'm not freaking out."

"Why yes, you did scare me, Gigolo. I really don't need that shit, you know." She holds up the removed price tag and smiles. "There you go. You sure you're not going to panic or something?"

I nod my head yes. I'm sure.

"Okay, good. Because I'm not going to mother you all day, you know. Also, Bella would probably rip me a new one if she came back to find you with a blue face while I'm giving you a mouth-to-mouth."

Her voice is colored with indignation and she didn't call me by any name, so it's hard to tell whether she's just messing with me or not, despite her smile. I risk a quick look into her eyes and find her playfully glaring at me.

Yes, we're good. She's not really mad.

I don't know if the discomfort I'm supposed to feel facing her is drowned out by the aftermath of the shock, or if it is something about Tanya herself, but I don't feel any urge to avert my eyes.

"You're welcome," she says, although I haven't thanked her yet.

I should have said thanks, but now it is kind of obsolete, so I just keep holding her gaze a little longer. The fact alone that I can do this is too fascinating to stop – too fascinating and too comfortable. I am compulsively blinking a lot though, as if my body begs to differ. But I'm keeping the eye contact.

"Wow..." Tanya whispers and tilts her head to one side. "Are we having a moment here, Eddy?"

In an obvious attempt to prevent her grin from growing wider, she pulls her cherry-red bottom lip through her teeth. The movement leaves the familiar trace of lipstick on the lower edge of her front teeth, and my eyes are drawn to it like magnets.

"I guess so," I say.

We both chuckle, and the spell is broken. She gets on her feet, tosses the scissors back into the drawer and closes it with a well-practiced push of her butt. Then she leans against the cabinet and starts twirling the price tag back and forth, coiling and uncoiling its thread around her index finger.

"So... now that we've established that your girlfriend is not humping some other guy somewhere but just helping an old lady, like the good girl scout she is – what funny things are we two going to do with the time remaining?"

"I never thought Bella was with another guy," I clarify. "I just didn't know she wouldn't be here. She didn't tell me about Mrs. Schneider."

"Oh, did she not?" Tanya raises her brows so high, I can see it without even lifting my eyes from her mouth. "Dude, you gotta give the girl a break; she's not supposed to tell you every little thing."

She is right, of course. Also, I am much too early. If I had arrived at the right time, I wouldn't even have noticed that Bella went somewhere else. A thought that doesn't really calm me...

"So if you weren't thinking Bella was with someone else, why were you freaking out like that?"

I shrug my shoulders. "I'm weird. I don't deal well with surprises."

"Is that an autism thing? Or just an Eddy thing?"

I don't really know how to answer that question. I never was without autism, so how am I supposed to view myself separately from it? It's an interesting question though; I never really thought about that. Would I be affected as much by unexpected events if it weren't for being autistic?

"Anyway..." Finally fed up with twirling the price tag around, Tanya flips it into the trash bin. "If you don't like surprises, you better not show up surprisingly early. You never know what surprises are waiting for you, right?"

I raise my brows, too. Because two can play this game. "Well, who is the smart ass now?"

She laughs. "Touché! Not bad, Eddy, not bad..."

"Thanks," I say, grinning.

She claps her hands and straightens herself. "Hey, we'll have to keep this between you and me, but we're practically closed already and I could really use a beer. What about you?"

"Uh... I'm driving."

"Yeah right. Crap, I wasn't thinking. A coke then?"

I notice that I'm actually quite thirsty. "Coke would be great, thank you."

She claps her hands once more and walks out into the sales room, calling over her shoulder, "I'll be right back. Don't move, okay?"

"Okay," I say loud enough for her to hear me. Then I slide down a bit in my chair and exhale a long breath. I think I'm doing okay now. I'm still a bit nervous because Bella hasn't returned yet, but there are still fifteen minutes until the drugstore closes officially… as opposed to 'practically'.

I'm still amazed about the connection Tanya and I have. I am not sure if it is something about her, or if maybe I'm just getting better at socializing in general. I have thought about it before... I believe it's something to do with Bella.

Being with Bella, even for this short period of just a few days, has changed me in so many ways. Before, it was not only that I felt uncomfortable about meeting people; I actually just didn't care about interacting with others. I had no interest in making friends or becoming part of a group. It never mattered to me if someone liked me or not. Not enough to put much effort in it anyway.

That has changed. Because this is not just about me anymore. It's about us. Bella and I, we make an 'us' now. And I want to be in her world as much as I want her in mine. I am willing to do what I can to make this work; I always was. I had worked so hard to become more apt at Glenholme School to get there... to earn my place by her side. She had been the reason all the way.

I just didn't expect stepping into her world to be this...  _enjoyable_. I tentatively touch my cheeks to confirm that I'm still smiling. Yes, I'm actually enjoying myself being around Tanya. And being able to connect to her, along with the knowledge that she likes spending time with me as well, gives me a certain sense of achievement that surprises and satisfies me in equal measures.

I guess I care now. And maybe that's what's making things easier, even pleasant. Anyway, I know for sure it wouldn't be like this without Bella. Because I wouldn't care. Would I stop caring again if I lost Bella? I don't really want to think about that, but it's an obvious question, kind of...

"Coke for you… on the house!"

Tanya's voice and two soda cans clanking down on the table thankfully snap me out of my musings. "And one for me too," she says and winks. "I decided to be a good girl today." She drops herself onto the chair opposite, opens her drink and with a nod towards me, lifts it to her mouth for a long swig.

I follow suit and almost moan when the cool liquid hits my throat; it feels that good. My hostess and I are having another 'moment' of sorts while we're both raising our chins higher and higher with each gulp we take, watching each other over the rims of our beverage cans. We stop at the same time – I with a blissful hiss, Tanya with a hearty burp.

"So..." she starts, wiping her mouth with a back of her hand, "I suppose you're not the jealous type then, huh? I'm curious, Eddy, because most guys I know, when their girl isn't where they thought she would be, the image of her with another man is the first thing they would think about. It's a testosterone sort of thing. But you...?"

"That idea didn't cross my mind," I answer honestly. Jealousy is a strange concept to me. I understand the mechanics of it in a way, but I don't think I ever felt jealous of anyone or anything. It's hard to imagine what it might feel like.

"No, it obviously didn't. But what if you had reason to think – and I'm not saying you have, of course – that Bella was with another man? Just for argument's sake… let's say I had told you she's delivering goods to a young Mr. Schneider instead of the old Mrs.?"

I know what she's aiming at with her question, so I think about that for a moment.

"Is he dangerous?"

"Who?"

"The young Mr. Schneider we just invented for argument's sake."

Tanya smirks. "Uhm... no. But he is handsome. And single."

I try to imagine the scenario and listen carefully inside me, but it doesn't strike any chord.

"It wouldn't make any difference," I say. "It doesn't matter whether Bella is with an old lady or a young man, as long as I know that she's well and safe."

"But he is handsome!" Tanya repeats indignantly.

"That's not his fault, I suppose."

"You are kidding me, right?" She makes a funny face, and I can't help but laugh.

"No, I'm not," I assure her. "See, I don't think I know what jealousy feels like. I think it's a special form of envy, only it isn't about belongings, it's about persons. It seems stupid to me. Why should I envy Bella talking to other persons, men or women?"

"Okay, maybe not talking. But what about touching? Wouldn't you want to interfere if young Mr. Schneider got a little touchy-feely with Bella?"

"Probably," I admit.

"Aha!" Tanya blurts and points her index finger at me triumphantly. "So you would be jealous, after all. I knew it. All guys are possessive when it comes to their girlfriend."

I'm still laughing quietly; she is too funny. "I would want to interfere because most likely Bella wouldn't be comfortable with a touchy-feely Mr. Schneider," I clarify. "It's nothing to do with possessiveness. You cannot possess a person, so why would I feel possessive?"

"Oh come on, Eddy, and what if she does like it? Are you telling me you would just stand by and watch them holding hands?"

I think I would. But if I am honest with myself, I must admit it's not exactly a pleasant visual. Anyway...

"I don't know, Tanya. But it's a moot point, because I know Bella wouldn't like being touched by a hypothetical Mr. Schneider or any other man who's not a close friend of hers. So of course I'd do something to help her get rid off the unwanted physical contact."

"You are slippery as an eel and you know it," she huffs, throwing her hands in the air. She thinks I'm avoiding her question.

"I know what you're asking," I say. I'm trying to sound serious again, even though her exasperation is quite amusing. "I'm really not jealous. I don't even think I have any idea what jealousy feels like."

"Well, it's easy for you to say that now. But I bet you would change your mind if you'd actually happen to walk into your girlfriend kissing another guy."

Tanya leans back in her chair and takes a long swig of her coke. She's not funny any more. She looks sad. And it's not because of me, or something I said. I know I didn't do anything wrong; I just answered her questions. Yet she seems disappointed. She shakes her head and sighs.

"You are lucky that Bella is such a faithful soul who deserves your superhuman trust."

No, this is definitely not about me.

"Did that happen to you?" I ask softly; I don't want to upset her further. "Did you get jealous because your boyfriend kissed another girl?"

" _Ex_ -boyfriend!" she hisses. "And you can bet your ass I got jealous when I saw that unfaithful bastard stick his tongue down Lauren Mallory's throat."

"Oh."

"Yeah... oh."

I guess this is where I should take her hand or something – whatever people do to comfort a friend who is upset. But I can't bring myself to move a finger; I don't think I'm ready for that. Her sudden mood swing took me off guard. I want to sympathize, but I am at a loss.

"What did it feel like?" I ask instead. I really want to know.

"Well, it's no fun, I can tell you that much," she snorts mirthlessly.

"It hurt, yes?"

"Yes, it did." She closes her eyes for a second, then she takes a deep breath. "Look, Edward, I'm sorry I brought all this up; I don't know what got into me. I guess it's just one of those days."

"It's fine," I say.

"No, it's not, but never mind."

But I do mind. I want to know. "Were you angry? What did you do?"

"What do you mean? I kicked his ass, that's what I did. I broke up with him."

"Because he kissed that girl?"

"No shit, Einstein!"

That seems a bit harsh. But I know people often make rash decisions out of jealousy.

"How long had he been your boyfriend?"

The answer comes immediately; she doesn't need to ponder. "A little more than a year. We were pretty serious."

"Do you know why he kissed the girl?"

"Jesus Christ," she moans. "Who cares? I didn't ask him."

"But how did you know he was being unfaithful? A kiss can have many different meanings."

She looks at me incredulously. "Did you hit your head? I saw him lick that bitch's tonsils; that didn't exactly leave much room for interpretation!"

"He might still have been loyal to you in his heart and mind though."

"Err…what?"

I weigh my next words carefully. I feel like I'm onto something, and I really want her understand what I'm saying.

"Let's look at it the other way round. If your boyfriend…"

" _Ex_ -boyfriend!"

"…your ex-boyfriend never kissed anyone but you, would that prove in any way that he's faithful?"

She stares at me in silence. The only thing moving is her left eyelid, which is twitching nervously. Since she doesn't appear to come up with an answer any time soon, I continue to lay out my thoughts.

"I mean, apart from kissing that girl, was he good to you? Like, I don't know... did he defend you against others when they treated you unfairly or talked behind your back? Because I consider such behavior as being faithful. Was he there for you when you had a bad time and such? Did he stay with you even when you were no fun? That's loyalty, is it not?"

She opens her mouth as if to say something, but closes it again without speaking and just looks at me, dumbfounded. "I need a cigarette," she mutters eventually, and rises from her chair. She fetches a pack of Marlboros from her purse on the cabinet and holds it out to me. "You want?"

I shake my head no. "I don't smoke."

"Want a toothpick to chew on then? Haha... just kidding – good for you that you don't smoke. It's a bad habit."

She lights a cigarette and inhales deeply. I know she is playing for time; I can see that she's thinking. Is smoking even allowed in here? After two more drags, she returns to her chair where she sits down and stubs out the cigarette in the ashtray on the table, almost angrily.

"You're asking the weirdest questions, Eddy, you know that?"

I don't think my questions are that absurd, but maybe I'm being too nosy. Maybe Tanya doesn't want to share such personal matters with me. "I apologize. I didn't mean to –"

"No, it's fine," she cuts in.

Encouraged, I inquire, "So…?"

She sighs noisily. "Yes, he did all that. He was very good to me, and until I caught him with Lauren Mallory at my birthday party, I really thought he loved me."

"I believe he  _did_  love you."

"Edward, seriously… you have no idea what you're talking about. Believe me, you cannot know what it's like to be cheated on by the one you love unless it happened to you. Until then, I guess we just have to agree to disagree. He cheated on me, at my own fucking birthday party! That's not love in my book."

I think about it for a moment, trying to picture Bella touching another person somewhat intimately. I don't like it. Admittedly, I'd rather she wouldn't touch anyone but me, but at the same time the idea seems kind of selfish. I don't think I have the right to decide who Bella should see, talk to or touch.

Just because I have no desire whatsoever myself to experience close physical contact with other people doesn't mean it's the same for her. I don't like being touched by other people at all, but maybe she does. And even though I selfishly wish being intimate with Bella was my exclusive privilege, it has to be  _her_  choice.

"I can see those little wheels turning inside that pretty head of yours, Edward," Tanya suddenly speaks up. "You're a smart dude, but you're also very young and naïve in a way – which is part of your panty-dropping charm. But believe me, that boy-meets-girl and love and heartbreak thing isn't something you can figure out with applied logic."

"I'm beginning to see that," I agree. "But still…"

Tanya shakes her head. "Okay, Mr. Spock, how is this? My boyfriend…"

"Your ex-boyfriend," I correct.

"…my now  _ex_ -boyfriend, yes! We were exclusive, okay? That means, he wasn't supposed to fool around with other girls – no sex, no kissing, no fondling – just like he expected me to keep my legs closed and my hands off of other guys. It was a promise we had made to each other. It's what couples usually do when they become exclusive; they don't even need to spell it out."

"I see. Then it was wrong of him, kissing that girl." A broken promise; I can understand that.

"Yes, it was. And you don't just swallow shit like that and say, 'Oh, no problem, baby, I forgive you for ripping my heart out!' If you think you could do that if it was Bella, you're just lying to yourself."

"I would not break up with her," I say, knowing with certainty I never would.

"No, I guess you wouldn't," Tanya whispers. "Bless your heart."

I'm glad to see her smile again, even though she does it with closed lips. I kind of miss her lipstick-stained grin.

"I forgave my mother Esme this morning," I tell her without thinking. I don't know why. It just came to me. Maybe it's because we're talking about forgiving.

"Holy shit, really? I take everything back; you're a fucking saint!"

Judging by Tanya's reaction, Bella must have filled her in to some extend about Esme. "So you know what she did with our letters?" I ask, just to make sure.

"Yes, Bella told me. What your mom did was all kinds of wrong. How could she do that to you?"

"She made a mistake."

Tanya huffs. "That's a really nice way to describe it."

"Just like your boyfriend."

"You can't compare those things."

"I think I can. Your boyfriend did something wrong and broke your heart, even though he cared for you. Esme did something wrong and broke mine, even though she cared for me."

Crossing her arms on the table, Tanya suddenly leans forward which makes her breasts almost pop out of her tee's neckline. She squints her eyes and her face registers an odd mix of sarcasm and genuine interest.

"Okay, Gandhi," she says. "How in fuck's name could you forgive her?"

I knew she would ask this question. I waited for it.

"I decided to forgive her because of the thousand things she'd done right, instead of breaking up with her for the one thing she'd done wrong."

Slowly, Tanya lets herself sink back against the backrest of her chair. Her hands come to rest on her lap, and she exhales lengthily through pursed lips. At the same time, I can hear the front door of the drugstore open and close, and although I happily recognize the sound and rhythm of the approaching footsteps as the squeaking rubber soles of Bella's sneakers, I keep looking at Tanya. We're not done yet.

"You're scaring me, Edward," she says, and then her signature grin is back in full force. "That planet you're from… tell me, are there more of your kind?"

I don't know what to say to this. Also, I really want to stand up now and finally meet Bella. But Tanya winks at me, and whispers, "Never mind. Another time, okay?"

And just when my slightly out-of-breath girlfriend enters the room and fills it with her soothing scent and warm presence, Tanya's voice resumes its normal level and she pipes conversationally, "So the banana-flavored rubbers were that good, huh?"


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Twilight – surprise! But I own a dog-eared, German copy of Ronja Räubertochter by the incomparable Swedish author Astrid Lindgren. The lovely book quotes in this chapter are from the English edition.
> 
> Like always, your reviews floored me; thank you so much! Some of you felt inclined to point out that Little Green's words of wisdom have their origin in my wicked way of thinking, which made me feel like Yoda. My answer is this: 'Blush you made me, but wise I am not.'
> 
> The wonderful Songster beta'd. This chapter gave her fits, but she enjoyed it, haha!  
> Writing this gave me the warm fuzzies; I hope reading it will do the same to you. Flashback alert!  
> There you go…

 

(BELLA)

One of the things that never cease to amaze me are the 'first moments' Edward and I share after being apart. It doesn't matter how long we haven't seen each other… an hour, a day,  _eight years_ … I keep thinking that I know what it feels like to reunite, but I don't.

It's like the beginning of spring; all through the winter you were certain to recall what it will be like. Because you clearly know every little detail about it, right? Birds, trees, everything… you've been there before, and you're looking forward to the warmth, the light and the smell of those precious days. But when they're finally here, the sensations exceed all your expectations, and you realize that your memories were just a pale shadow of the real thing. You realize that you didn't even know what you were missing all the time, and how badly.

That's how it is with Edward and me right now. The way he zones in on me immediately and completely, as if I were the only person in the room, melts my insides. The smile that follows outshines every mental image of happy Little Green that I have conjured up during the day. The way his right arm fits around my middle so perfectly when he pulls me close is like a missing piece finally slips into its place all by itself.

I totally expected him to do all that, yet it didn't prepare me for this new 'first moment' of ours. Every time feels like a 'first time' indeed – excitement, electricity, fluttering stomach and all. I know, it is supposed to wear off over time, but it's hard to imagine. I want to believe this will never get old.

I also totally expected Tanya to be her usually naughty self, and maybe even worse in my absence, so overhearing that last remark of hers doesn't really surprise me. She's just trying to mess with me. I mean, come on… the banana condoms? Seriously? I would shoot her a glare if Edward's shoulders weren't blocking my view. But I cannot take my eyes off of his anyway.

If I had harbored the slightest worry about how he would handle Tanya's shenanigans all on his own, they now dissolve into thin air. He doesn't even seem to notice that she just said anything; he doesn't really acknowledge her presence anymore. All his senses are focused on me, and I know he's feeling it too… this 'first time' sensation.

I hear Tanya clearing her throat, followed by chair scraping and feet shuffling. And if eye-rolling had a sound too, I'm sure Tanya's would be really loud right now. When she moves past us, she mumbles something about closing the store and, "I cannot with the sweet…", and how watching us any longer will give her cavities. Then she's out of the room.

Edward closes his eyes, lets his forehead sink onto my shoulder and sighs deeply. My hand finds its way into the soft curls in the nape of his neck.

_I know. I missed you, too._

He turns his head towards my face, and his arm around my waist tightens subtly. I feel my body tingle all over when his nose skims along my jaw and down my throat, until it finds the dent between my collarbones. There he stills and inhales deeply once, and once more, and again… as if reveling in the promises of a sweet breeze after a long winter.

_I know, Little Green. I know…_

This is one of our 'first moments'. I gently hold his head while my adorable man keeps breathing me in.

.

.

.

(FORKS, JULY 2004)

" _And then spring crashed like a cry of joy into the woods around Mattis's Fort. The snow melted. It ran in streams down from all the mountainsides and burrowed its way down to the river. And the river roared and frothed with all its eddies and swirls and sang a wild spring song, which never fell silent._ "

Taking a moment to let the words she'd just read aloud reverberate in her mind, Bella fell silent. Those first days of spring had always been her favorite time of the year, and as it was so beautifully described in the book, she couldn't recall a spring ever being a slow build. Spring, as far as she remembered, always came with breathtaking unexpectedness; one moment everything was cold and grey and quiet, and then it wasn't.

A stirring at her feet snapped Bella out of her musings. She let the open book sink onto her lap and smiled at the boy who sat on the rug in front of the couch, casually leaning against her calf. As was his way, Edward had remained so perfectly silent and motionless as he listened to her reading; she'd almost forgotten that she had an audience.

Growing impatient with the long intermission, he had brought himself to mind by tugging at the leg of Bella's jeans. He craned his neck to look up at her and squinted his eyes quizzically.

"I'm just thinking," Bella answered his unspoken question. She suppressed a giggle when Edward raised one brow in further inquiry; he simply looked too cute when he did that. However, she didn't want him to think she wasn't taking him seriously.

"About spring," she elaborated. "You know, how Astrid Lindgren writes about its arrival… I think, she absolutely nails it."

It amazed her how much their communication, albeit non-verbal on his part, had improved. Where Edward's exterior had seemed like a blank card only a month ago, he had now taken on a rich vocabulary of gestures and facial expressions, belying that first impression of an emotionally challenged, slow kid people usually got.

He frowned, he scowled, he gaped. And he smiled a lot. He even laughed out loud sometimes, which Bella found absolutely wonderful. Even though he never laughed at any of her jokes but in the most unpredictable moments, her heart jumped for joy every time it happened.

And then, of course, there was the touching. The touching literally never stopped. Edward wasn't what you would call 'clingy'; he was just very constant in his efforts to always maintain physical contact with Bella. When standing next to her, he would find a way to lean towards her until their arms touched. Or he would gently rub his head against her upper arm. When they sat together, he used to put a hand on her thigh and let it rest there. Sometimes the only contact was the tip of his pinkie grazing hers, lightly as a feather. He also liked touching her hair.

In the beginning, Bella often found it awkward. Not because she didn't like it, but she was unsure if that much physical closeness was even appropriate, given that Edward was a boy and she was grown up enough to have boobs and everything. She was quite confident when it came to hugging Edward like brother and sister would do, but those constant and rather subtle caresses they shared seemed so much more intimate than that, and she knew it was not a normal thing, not even between siblings, and far less for a baby sitter and her charge. For weeks, she used to side-eye the Cullens warily, watching out for any signs of disapproval. But when neither Esme nor Carlisle ever seemed to be at odds with their son's strong attachment, she stopped worrying eventually.

All in all, communicating with Edward through such a variety of means came to her so naturally, that she hardly ever thought about how extraordinary this truly was – a fact she was reminded of only when she watched him fall back into his stiff demeanor on the occasions when others were around. He wouldn't even smile at his mother as much as he did at Bella, or as beautifully.

Right now, one of those beautiful smiles exclusively reserved for her lit up his face, as understanding sank in. He put his hands together at the fingertips, only to flip them apart in a sudden movement and throw both his arms in the air, fingers wide spread. With an excited look on his face, he mouthed 'Poof!'

This time, Bella couldn't keep her laughter in. Edward chortled quietly and scrambled to his feet. He crawled onto the couch next to her, bent his head over the open book on Bella's lap and quickly skimmed the pages. When he found what he was looking for, he tapped the line with his index finger.

…  _spring crashed like a cry of joy into the woods…_

"Yes, that's what I mean," Bella confirmed. "It's exactly like that, don't you think? I love spring."

Edward nodded frantically; he really could relate to this. For a moment, he was overwhelmed by the realization that his own perceptions and feelings were shared by others. Not only by his Easybella, which he almost took for granted at this point, but also by the author of a book that had been written more than a decade before he was even born, and in a foreign country on the other side of the ocean, at that.

 _Ronia, The Robber's Daughter_  had been Bella's pick. She had read it herself at the age of ten, or maybe eleven. She remembered sleepless nights aplenty, secretly devouring it, in the light of a small flashlight and hidden under the blanket. What she didn't remember though was how utterly enchanting Lindgren's words really were, or how clearly this was a Romeo And Juliet adaptation of sorts – a fact that eluded her as a little girl. Thankfully, and because it was a children's story, it left out any Shakespearean tragedy.

Anyway, it was the tale, beautifully told, about the deep friendship between two children, the daughter and the son of arch nemesis robber clans, who ran from their families to live together in the woods. It was riddled with lots of fantasy elements too, and she had been sure Edward would love it.

It turned out she was right; even more than she knew. Edward always loved when Bella read to him. I fact, he would listen to her reciting the Forks phone directory, just happy to be close to her and hear her voice. But this time, it was different.

James Fenimore Cooper and Jules Verne had been great, and Bella's animated reading had gotten his mental cinema going. But while he merely watched those adventures come to life in his mind as if on a screen, the story of Ronia and her friend Birk drew him in so much, that he found himself really inside it. He walked his mental Scandinavian woodlands in 3D, and he slipped inside those characters and saw through their eyes.

He switched between the girl and the boy a lot at first, especially when he was confused about their feelings, but he definitely felt…  _something_. And then he imagined it was Bella and him, alone in the woods with no one else around to watch or to judge. He would be with her all day, just Easybella and him, and he would protect her from being caught by the faeries. With only Easybella around, he wouldn't have to change who he was, but maybe he would anyway. Maybe he would speak…

He snuggled into Bella's side and pointed a finger at where she had left off on the page, indicating for her to continue reading, which she did without further ado. Almost casually, she wiggled her arm free from between them and put it around Edward's shoulders. He nestled even closer, enjoying the way her voice vibrated in her chest, and stealthily sniffed at the exposed skin above the neckline of her tee. Being that close to his Easybella did things to him, weird and wonderful things he didn't quite understand but produced such blissful sensations that he sought them as often as possible.

It usually started with a soft tingling at the back of his throat that grew stronger by the minute and then slowly diffused, wandering down his spine and flooding his insides with warmth. His heartbeat and breathing slowed down and he became calm to a degree where he almost felt drowsy. Often he couldn't keep his eyes open; he never even tried. It was the most delicious state of being he knew, and he wished for it to last forever.

Sometimes the sensations wouldn't stop at his stomach but made their way further down, and his penis would grow hard. Not quite as much as it did in the mornings, when he literally had to force it down with his hands in order to empty his bladder without making a mess in the bathroom. But it stirred alright, and other than his morning erections which he found rather annoying, it felt pleasant.

There was nothing really sexual about it; Edward's ten-year-old mind didn't work that way yet and he never thought anything even remotely along those lines. It was just one of the many ways his body reacted to Bella, especially to her scent, and it meant nothing more or less to him than the warm shivers along his spine. He never considered touching himself, either. It just happened, and then un-happened, and Bella never noticed anything. Even though he didn't make a conscious effort to hide it – that's how innocently he thought of it.

Right now, he felt the familiar tingling spread again as he basked in her scent and the sound of her voice. His heart swelled so much with love for his Easybella that he could hardly bear keeping the emotion within the confines of his introvert self.

" _And here she was now and plunged into spring. It was so glorious all around her that Ronia, too, was abuzz with its plentiful glory and she shrilled like a bird, loud and screaming, until she had to explain it to her friend. 'I have to make a spring scream, or else I will burst.'"_

Edward felt like he had to make a love scream, or else he would burst, too. But of course, he couldn't. Instead, he climbed onto Bella's lap, wrapped his arms around her neck and hugged her fiercely. A brief moan escaped him, as if the scream inside of him had grown so big that it was impossible to keep that tiny portion of it from spilling over.

Despite Bella's surprise, her arms moved of their own volition and she held Edward tightly. The book went flying and hit the carpet with a muffled thud, but she didn't care. "I love you, too," she whispered, wanting to say it back to him. She wished there was a way to say it better, so that he would really understand how much he meant to her, how precious their bond had become.

When Edward's arms tightened around her and he sighed into her hair, she allowed herself to hope that maybe, just maybe, he already knew.

"Enough reading for today, don't you agree?" she asked after a while, and Edward relaxed and let go of her. "Your mom will be back soon, and I want to tidy up a bit before she returns. Why don't you pour yourself another glass of cherry juice and wait by the pool?"

The boy nodded. All the wonderfulness of the last hour seemed to have made him thirsty. Bella kissed his forehead, then she ruffled his hair. "Go ahead. I'll join you in a moment."

Only a little later that day… after she saw Edward's clothes shed next to the pool and almost fainted with the shock of having lost him… after she found him hiding in a closet, upset beyond reason about having spilled his beverage… after she had bathed him and sang a certain song to him she probably recalled because of all the spring talk… when she made up his secret name that only she would call him… that was when Edward knew.

In his mind, he had called her by a secret name all the time. And when she told him that from now on, and when no one else was listening, she would call him Little Green,  _'like the color when the spring is born'_ , he just knew.

She felt it, too.

Little Green and Easybella – there was no other thing in the world as precious as this.

Forever.

.

.

.

(BELLA)

When he's finally smelled his fill of whatever is so enticing about my sweaty-after-a-long-workday self, he gives a contented sigh. "I missed this… _you_ … I missed you."

"I know. I missed you, too. Hey, I'm sorry you had to wait for me."

"'S fine," he tells my collarbone. "Tanya told me about Mrs. Schneider, and I wouldn't mind if you delivered goods to young men."

_Huh?_

He lifts his head, his green eyes shining as they find mine, and says, "I called Esme this morning and told her that I forgive her."

"Ah yes? Peachy! I bet she's happy now, isn't she?"

I'm unable to keep the acid out of my voice, but I regret it immediately. This is important to him, dammit! Also, it's just so Little Green, blurting things out like that, eager to share… well, the new, speaking Little Green, that is. I bet it had been building inside of him all day and he just cannot keep it in any longer.

"No, she isn't," he replies earnestly, unfazed by my bitchy remark. "Can we leave now?"

There! He did it again. He's really giving me mental whiplash…

"Okay. I have to check if Tanya needs help closing up first."

"I'm good here," Tanya hollers from the store, making us both jump. How the hell did she hear what we were saying?

"Just go already, so you can get into each other's pants, or souls, or whatever," she laughs.

Her voice sounds weird, as if accompanied by some electronic effect or something. And then it hits me. It must be that baby monitor thingie she uses to get notice of arriving customers when she's back in here. I guess that thing works both ways.  _Jeez!_

"I'd like to get into your pants," Edward says softly, the most adorable smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. And it's killing me that there's not even a hint of cheekiness coloring his voice; he just sounds sincere. And sure as fuck, Tanya overheard that, too.  _Double jeez!_

And then Edward kisses me, and when our lips touch, there's no need to consciously order mine to part. In a blink our tongues meet and, oh my God, this is heaven! I forget about Tanya and baby monitors, and I couldn't care less if she can hear my quiet moan or how noisily Edward is breathing through his nose.

I put both of my hands on his behind and pull him close; I want to feel what I know will be there when our hips meet. There's just something incredibly arousing about his hard cock grinding against me when we're fully clothed. And I'm not disappointed; it's just the way his body reacts to being close to me. Reliably.

I should be used to it by now, but holy shit! He is big, and this is so hot. I break the kiss and take a deep breath to speak, but he takes the words out of my mouth.

"Let's get out of here, so I can make love to you."

The baby monitor snickers. Oh boy, I will never live this down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading.  
> I know this one was short. But it was soon instead, right? For those who missed the schmexing (again!): I know I've been trying your patience lately, but I feel a lemon coming in chapter 32.
> 
> Reviews are like sharing a 'first moment' with Edward; every one feels like the first I've ever got. :o)
> 
> P.S.: If you haven't read Ronia, The Robber's Daughter yet (or any other of Lindgren's works), OMG, do it!


	32. Chapter 32

 

(BELLA)

When we enter the building, he hesitates for a moment at the door to my apartment, watching where I'm heading. I like Edward's three-quarter bed much better than the remaining half of my ex-marital double bed, so I take his hand and pull him towards the stairs. He follows all too willingly, and when I look back over my shoulder, I am rewarded with the sexiest smile. Looks like he prefers his own bed, too.

"Lead the way." I let go of him and step aside to allow him to pass.

He stops dead in his tracks and looks at me as though I just said the most ridiculous thing. "No."

_What the…?_

"You're the one with the keys," I try to reason with him. "You should go first." I briefly consider telling him that I'm also looking forward to watching his delectable behind ascend the stairs, but I don't get the chance.

"I can't go first," he declares firmly, again with that are-you-kidding-me look on his face.

"You can't?"

He shakes his head no.

_Oh... of course!_

I smirk at him. "You just want to ogle my badonkadong on the way up, don't you?"

"Badonka...?"

"My butt."

"Oh... no. I mean, yes… but that's not… no."

I'm confused. And kind of disappointed.  _No?_

"It's just not the way this is done," he says cryptically.

"This? Okay, I'm at a loss. What isn't done this way, and why can't you go first?"

_And what, for crying out loud, is wrong with my butt?_

"I'm supposed to walk behind you, so I can catch you in case you trip. The woman always goes first," he says matter-of-factly. He sounds a little taken aback, too. Probably because he's wondering how it is even possible that I don't know about "the way this is done".

"That's very… chivalrous of you," I reply, bemused. "I guess I'll go first then."

"Yes, please." He motions for me to move on, and I obediently turn on my heels and start climbing the stairs, Little Green in trail.

We take the two flights in silence, and it's not before we reach the second landing that he passes, keys in hand. He holds the door open for me and I walk inside. I hear the door click shut; the keys tinkle and then stop tinkling. Edward steps up to me from behind to help me off with my coat.

As I shrug out of it, I can't help but admit to myself how much I like his good manners. Why didn't I notice them earlier? Come to think of it, he's actually been like that all the time, helping me in and out of the car, opening doors, holding the chair for me and now, well… climbing the staircase behind me.

"Bella?" I turn around to find my gallant boyfriend look at me sheepishly. He scratches the back of his head and says, "I totally ogled your badong... behind, just so you know."

I want to do a fistpump at his confession, but I do my utmost to keep a straight face. "And did you like it?"

He beams at me. "A lot!"

And there he stands, fidgeting and messing with his hair. I watch him alternately frown and smile for a few seconds, then I can't take it any longer. "What's wrong?"

He shakes his head. "It's so strange sometimes now, with all the talking, you know. Like right now... I want to touch you. Easy, you know, like we used to do."

"Yes?" I wonder where this is going. He seems so insecure all of a sudden, almost scared. "What's keeping you from it?"

"I don't know. I feel I have to put everything in words these days, like I should have asked whether you even want me to make love to you. I feel like I'm assuming too much, even with you. As if you're supposed to know what I want, but you don't, and the other way round. It's like nothing really works anymore without talking."

"What do you mean?" I ask, tentatively walking over to him. "Of course, I want you to make love to me."

Edward casts his eyes down and smiles. "That's good to know," he says. He still has those long lashes I always admired when we were kids; he looks breathtaking. Without taking his eyes off of the floor, he reaches for my hips as soon as I'm within his reach. "I don't know why I felt funny about it; I just wasn't sure what you want, so I was wondering..."

"And then you got shy?"

"Yes, kind of. And I don't want that. But I started thinking, and suddenly I didn't know how to proceed from here. All those thoughts got in my way, and I couldn't move past them. Like it wasn't safe to just... touch you. Like I needed to figure out if you want it too, before I do anything."

He is still talking to his shoes, and I don't know whether to laugh or to worry about his sudden sentiment. It seems my usually so unabashed boyfriend is having an awkward moment due to the fact that he took me home to have sex with me, but we're still standing in the hallway and the 101 of seduction completely eludes him. Or something like that. What the...?

"Edward, please look at me."

He lifts his head, and when his eyes meet mine, they are full of expectation. I put my arms around his waist and pull him close. When our hips meet, everything feels soft down there, so... okay,  _now_  I'm worried.

"Are you afraid that I'd reject you?"

"Not really," he says with a shrug. "I know you won't, but still..."

"You're right, I won't. I will always want you, Edward. Your touch, and your love."

He closes his eyes and leans his forehead against mine. "Bella..." he sighs.

"You're thinking too much, Edward."

I feel him nod his head yes. "I know, right? This is just not us."

"Maybe not. But we both have changed, as did the circumstances, and maybe we cannot always just know what the other one wants. That's perfectly normal, I think. You know, not many people get each other without words like we do anyway."

"Oh, I'm aware of that, trust me."

"Of course you are. Also, talking is a good thing; it's what people do all the time. It's kind of helpful, you know?"

He snickers, and my heart swells with love for him.

"So if you feel like you need to talk to me, or you want to ask me anything, just do it. Never be shy with me, okay?"

He tilts his head back and flashes me a brilliant smile. "Okay."

"Good," I say, smiling back at him. "Now that we've established that I really want you to make love to me, what do  _you_  want?"

"I want to make love to you, too. You know that," he whispers.

I lean into him, brushing my lips against his ear. "No. Tell me what you  _want_." I take his earlobe between my teeth, nibbling gently. "What do you want to do to me? What's next? Or is there anything you want  _me_  to do right now? Tell me, please..."

His hands have wandered from my hips down to my behind. With a groan, he pulls me even closer and, ah yes... now we're talking! I love the feel of his erection pressing into me through his pants.

"Words can be nice, right? Even if they're not necessary," I coo, licking the sensitive dent behind his ear. "I have an idea what you want, but maybe I want to hear it anyway. Can you do that for me? Can you tell me what you want?"

"Bella…" he moans.

"Please, tell me."

"Anything I want?" He definitely looks intrigued now.

"Anything," I confirm without hesitation.

I trust him completely; he would never ask anything I'm not comfortable with. Or maybe it's the other way round – I just cannot imagine anything I wouldn't like being intimate with Little Green.

I have no idea where this is going, but I'm in an experimental mood. Being with Edward somehow always seems to bring out this bold side I never even knew I had in me. His undiluted love and desire for me makes me feel sexy and playful; I enjoy every second of it.

And he seems inclined to play along. His breathing gets a little labored; he likes this. And I like that he likes it. Very much! I can hardly keep myself from jumping him. Grinding my hips against him, just a little to spur him on, I say, "I'm listening."

He licks his lips and swallows. That familiar crease appears between his brows, as if he needs to think about it for a moment, while his thumbs are nervously drawing small circles on my butt cheeks.

"Okay," he starts hesitantly. "I think I would like for you to..."

"Yes?"

Our faces are so close that our noses almost touch, and I don't know if it is his breath washing over me or the sound of his velvet voice what makes me a little dizzy, as he asks softly, "Would you undress for me? While I watch?"

_Sweet baby Jesus, give me strength!_

And here I thought, the seducing part was mine. I blink a few times and take a deep breath to compose myself. Then I answer firmly, "Of course I would, if you told me to."

"Oh no, I didn't mean… that would be like ordering you around" he objects, taken aback.

"Yes," I say. "But that's the point, isn't it?" I can't help but grin mischievously.

His green eyes widen. "Bella?"

"Maybe I like it. Maybe  _you'd_  like it. Who knows?"

He gasps. "Fuck!"

_Exactly!_

I wiggle out of his arms and take a few, deliberately slow steps backward. Crossing my arms in front of me, a grab the hem of my tee, lifting it just an inch. Then I stop and wait.

The seconds tick by. Little Green stands perfectly still, except for the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathes noisily through parted lips. His eyes are glued to my hands. After what seems like an eternity, he finally looks up and shakes his head, smiling wryly.

"Bella, I don't think this…"

"What?" I laugh.

"… is right."

"Come on!" I lift my tee a little further, teasing him.

He giggles, "I cannot…"

"Say it!"

"Can't we just…"

"Out loud!"

"… fuck… Bella, why can't we…"

"Yes?"

We stare at each other, grinning like idiots. Apparently, neither of us can be serious for shit. So much for my first attempt at a bit of role-play. Our acting skills truly suck; this is ridiculous. With an awkward laugh, I let go of my tee. I'm about to leave it be, when Edward suddenly squints his eyes at me and whispers, "Wait."

His smile disappears like a light being switched off, and his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows noisily. He walks backward, putting more distance between us, until he leans against the wall behind him. He tilts his head back, looking at me from under half closed lids.

His lips part.

I hold my breath.

"Strip!" he says.

Oh my God, did he just…?

_Oh my God!_

In a split second, I feel like someone poured hot liquids over me; I'm sure my face is turning the deepest pink ever. I'm surprised, albeit in a good way, and terribly aroused, but fuck… now that he said it, I'm the one feeling shy all of a sudden! What now? How do I do it?

Slowly, right? Yes, slowly. And sensual. Or something along those lines. Ah, screw it! Here we go…

I lift my tee shirt in slow motion, inch by inch. I wish I had put on nicer undies, but well, Little Green and I were occupied otherwise this morning, and there was no time left to go to my place and change. Some music would probably be really helpful, too, come to think of it. I try to think of a sexy song to play in my mind, but I go completely blank. All that is there is the throbbing of my heart I can feel literally everywhere, head to toe, and the heat that makes my skin tingle.

When I have rolled the fabric up under my breasts, I stop and turn away from him, swaying my hips a little in the process, before I pull the tee over my head and toss it aside. It would probably all look much more convincing if I wore heels, but I try not to feel too silly tippy-toeing on the spot in my sneakers. I make a mental note to not neglect proper preparation next time, as I reach behind myself to unclasp my not-so-spectacular bra.

However, one (hopefully seductive) glance over my shoulder is all it takes to put an end to my self-deprecation. Not only is Edward still watching me intently from under heavy lids, I also catch him palming himself over the fly of his jeans. The sight of him is incredibly sexy and such a boost to my confidence that I'm unable to contain a wide grin. I turn my head just in time to hide it from him.

Oh this man! I could probably wear a potato sack, and he would still look at me as if I were Dita von Teese doing a pole dance in a Victoria's Secret ad. He likes what I'm doing. He likes it so much that he had to touch himself while he watched me. I wiggle my butt with renewed enthusiasm, really starting to enjoy myself. The only music I need is the sound of Edward's heavy breathing behind me to keep me going.

I shrug out of the bra straps, one at a time, and turn around, holding the cups in place with my hands. Edward is unbuttoning his shirt, which knocks me off my stride for a second. I involuntary lick my lips when his happy trail comes in sight. Again I fight the urge to smile, but not to much avail – he catches it. One corner of his mouth curls up for the briefest moment, then he furrows his brows, composing himself.

With an earnest expression on his face, he nods his chin towards my bra like a boss. "Take it off!" he commands, but then falters, "I want to see your…"

 _Breasts? Boobs? Girls?_  I raise my brows.

His forehead knits together even more. He clears his throat in a not so bossy manner before he finally and stoutly blurts, "Tits!"

The moment the word is spoken, I drop the offending piece of fabric, and when the bra hits the floor, I kick it aside. Edward's shoulders slump forward as if in defeat and he exhales a shuddering breath.

"God, you're beautiful," he sighs, totally falling out of character for a moment.

Seeing the almost desperate look on his face, I can hardly keep myself from walking over and put him (and myself!) out of this misery – as in, you know, throwing myself at him, nuzzling his happy trail, ripping his pants off of him… something like that. My nipples were already hard before the bra came off, but I swear they rise to the occasion even more now. Fuck, if he doesn't make me feel like the hottest woman on earth…

But I am on a mission here, hell-bent to finish what I started. So I bravely reach for the button of my jeans and flick it open. Immediately, Edward straightens his shoulders and quickly shrugs out of his shirt. There's no more going slow now. With as much grace as I can muster, I toe out of my chucks, glad for once that they are so well-worn I don't even have to untie the laces.

Edward does the same, mirroring my actions. His belt comes loose next, and I die a little inside when I see him mouth  _'I love you'_. I manage to mouth back  _'Same'_ , as we both pull down our zippers. And then I die a little more at the sight of his huge erection, straining against his boxer briefs, which cannot even hold the whole package – the tip of his cock is peeking out from under the waistband, already glistening with pre-cum.

I'm pretty wet myself at this point; I can smell my own arousal. I hurry to push my jeans down my thighs, not worrying about the possible non-sexiness of my panties, because they are still lost somewhere in Edward's bedroom. So, I'm not wearing any. Did I mention it was too late for changing this morning?

I merely have time to straighten myself and step out of the jeans pooling around my ankles when Edward crashes into me like a freight train. Under the onslaught of his passionate attack, I bump into the wall behind me with a squeak. And then there's only Edward, nothing but him… everywhere on me… nothing else but this man and his desire for me.

His lips on mine, his tongue not asking for entrance but invading my mouth. His breath comes in short puffs through flared nostrils, hot on my face. His hands are tangling in my hair first, but soon turn into a tight grip on the back of my head, bending and shaping me to his liking as he deepens the kiss and releases a rumbling groan.

I almost faint at the sound; it's the most erotic thing I ever heard. My stomach is putty, as are my knees, but he has shoved one leg between my thighs, effectively keeping me from weakly sliding down. That wouldn't be possible anyway, as tightly as I am trapped between his body and the wall. Chest, belly, hips flush with mine... Edward everywhere, grinding into me. You couldn't put a hair between us if you tried.

My moan is embarrassingly loud as I rub my throbbing clit against his thigh between my legs. With one hand still on the nape of my neck, he uses the other to cup one of my butt cheeks, squeezing it almost painfully, and pulls me even closer, increasing the friction. And fuck yes… his hard cock is pressing into my belly next to my hip-bone, driving me crazy with lust.

He breaks the kiss and we both gasp for air like free divers who made it to the surface at the very last second. In a brief moment of clarity, and with a strength I didn't know I possess, I push and squirm until I have successfully turned us around and he is the one with his back against the wall. Then I take a step back, holding my hand out, palm towards him to make him stay put.

He looks really tortured now. "Bella, please…" he pants.

"Condoms," I manage to rasp, still holding my hand up. After two more steps backward, and not taking my eyes off of his, I fumble blindly inside my purse on the small dresser behind me. I find a condom, feeling the familiar, doughnut-shaped tin foil between my fingers, and breathe a sigh of relief.

Kneeling in front of my gorgeous man, I rip the thing open like a pro while Edward eagerly shoves down his jeans and boxers in one go, if only to mid-thigh. I giggle when his cock comes free like a jack-in-a-box, almost slapping me in the face. I grab it at the base, eliciting another deep groan on Edward's behalf, and sheath him in one swift move. I've really become quite expert rolling those things on. I wished we didn't have to use them though; I seriously need to get on the pill or something.

"There you go," I murmur absentmindedly, noticing that we still have to get Edward's pants all the way down. But I don't get a chance to attend to the problem. Apparently, my mumbled sentiment was the last cue he waited for. Before I know it, I am pulled to my feet and twirled around. My shoulder blades hit the wall once more, and my lucid moment ends in another searing kiss. Oh, he's done teasing and being teased in earnest now, and I give myself over to his frantic caresses all too willingly.

Bending his knees, he assaults every inch of my skin that he can get a hold of; kissing, licking and nibbling… neck, shoulders, chest, breasts, and finally sucking at my achingly hard nipples. I'm dripping wet and tingling all over; in a sensual frenzy, I let him take control. He is a force against which I have no defense anyway, when he is like this, and I wouldn't want it any other way.

Before Little Green, I had no idea it could be like this. And now I can't get enough. I close my eyes and let him have his way with me. I know, my back and shoulders, among other parts of my anatomy, will most likely be pretty sore later, but I don't care. I want this; I want him so much. I want him to fuck me!

"Fuck me!"

Jesus, did I just say that? Aloud?

"God, yes…!" he cries out.

Yep, I did say it!

He grabs my ass and lifts me off the floor. The insides of my knees scratch along some rough fabric, giving me a slight 'denim burn' of sorts and reminding me that Edward's jeans are still hanging around his thighs. The thought of how he was too eager to take them off somehow turns me on even more. And then there's only one thought left, repeating itself in my mind like a mantra.

_Oh God, he's going to fuck me against this wall... oh God..._

And that's exactly what he's doing.

"Your legs – put them around me!" he orders in a surprisingly dominating tone, and I hurry to do as I'm told. He briefly adjusts my weight with his hands under my butt, and then he enters me in one forceful thrust, making my spine scrape upwards on the woodchip wallpaper.

We both cry out in unison, overwhelmed by the initial sensation of being united like this. He stills, just holding me, and I revel in this first moment of being filled and stretched by his gorgeous cock. It stings a little; my girly parts weren't quite ready to be taken like this, but the pleasure is so much stronger than that. My spine, too, will probably have a lot to complain about, once we're done. But for now, I couldn't care less.

This is so good, so good… God, I love him so much!

His forehead leans against mine; we're panting into each other's mouth. His eyes are closed, and there's that deep crease between his brows, as if he needs to concentrate realyl hard – which he probably does.

He is so, so beautiful.

"I love you, Edward," I whisper between pants.

His eyes fly open. "Are… are you okay? Because I don't think I… I cannot wait, Bella, I just can't."

"Do it," I say. "Fuck me."

He buries his face in the crook of my neck, and with a loud moan, he starts moving. There's no slow build; he does what I asked him to do – he fucks me, hard and quick. This won't last long; I know he cannot hold it in. But I don't mind. Feeling him inside me is insanely good, and I love my man like this, unbound and fueled by his desire for me and only me.

I reach down between us to rub against myself. Edward shows his appreciation with a loud, "Fuck, Bella!", but doesn't falter in his frantic movements. When I feel his cock grow even bigger inside of me, I know that he's almost there, just like me.

There's a clattering noise coming from somewhere to the left of me. I turn my head and mesmerized, I watch a picture frame bouncing off the wall with each of Edward's hard thrusts.

He is getting vocal now, grunting and moaning, his noises getting louder and quicker in succession. It's just a matter of seconds now. I increase the speed of my fingers circling my wet clit and close my eyes. With one last cry and one last powerful thrust, my man convulses and stops breathing. The sensation of his cock pumping and pulsing inside of me is my undoing, too.

"God, yes… yes!" I scream, with one arm clinging to him for dear life when I feel my walls clamp down on him. A second before I literally start seeing stars, I hear a loud clatter; then everything goes blank.

.

.

.

When I come back to my senses a few minutes (or hours?) later, we are sitting on the floor, surrounded by our scattered clothes. Or better, Edward is sitting on the floor and I am sitting in his lap, cradled against his chest. How did we get here?

There's something covering my back and shoulders; I reach for it and then I stare at the corner of green fabric between my fingers, still having trouble gathering my wits.

"You were getting cold, so I put my shirt over you," he says softly and places a feather-light kiss on the top of my head.

"Thank you," I say and snuggle closer into him.

"It's new."

"Ah yes? It's a very nice shirt. The color suits you."

His answers is merely an incoherent hum, but it sounds pleased. I'm terribly sleepy all of a sudden; I can hardly keep my eyes open. Also, my back hurts like a motherfucker, just like I expected. But damn, it's so worth it.

"I'm sorry, if I hurt you," he declares as if he just read my mind.

"You didn't," I lie.

He doesn't buy it. "I'll draw you a bath anyway, if you don't mind."

I snicker. "I don't mind."

"Okay," he says. "The warmth will do you good. I could wash your hair, if you'd like."

"That would be heavenly," I admit. Isn't he the sweetest living thing?

"You need to let go of me though, so I can get up."

Yeah, right.

He pulls the shirt tighter around my shoulders and kisses my nose. When he scrambles to his feet and – finally – steps out of his jeans and boxers, I briefly wonder where the condom has gone. Apparently he has disposed of it while I was out, sort of...

Naked Edward slips into his shoes and starts collecting our clothes, piling them under one arm. Then he grabs my sneakers and puts them in front of me, neatly side by side.

"I'm going to take care of your bath. Please don't walk around here without shoes; there's shattered glass on the floor."

He looks at me expectantly, until I realize he's waiting for my acknowledgement. "Okay," I say, bewildered.

He smiles and crouches down for one last kiss before he heads towards the bathroom.

I slide my arms into the sleeves of Edward's pretty, new, green shirt and close the first three buttons. Then I put on my sneakers and stretch my legs out in front of me, which feels amazing. Leaning back against the wall under the scandalized objection of my spine, I look around, searching for any shards. It doesn't take me long to find them, and I laugh out loud at the sight of the scrambled thing on the floor to the left of me.

The picture frame didn't make it.


	33. Chapter 33

Don't get too excited yet, this isn't a new chapter, just an important announcement.

I donated a Little Green and Easybella outtake to a fandom fundraiser that is dearer to my heart than any other before. Below you'll find a teaser of said outtake. It was part of a compilation of more than 80 stories, some of them even written and donated by cherished writers who have come out of their fic retirement for this.

In September 2012, one of the fandom's loveliest, most supportive readers, and a dear friend of mine, Katalina had been diagnosed with stage 4 cancer and was told she has about 6 months to live. When asked if there's anything that we, her friends, could do, she said, "I want nothing for myself, but... can we raise money for SU2C (Stand Up 2 Cancer)?"

So that's what we did.

I also wrote and recorded a song for Katalina with all download proceeds flowing 100% into the fundraiser, too:

[ **http://bettis-art-house.blogspot.com**](http://bettis-art-house.blogspot.com) (it's pretty prominent in the sidebar, video incl.)

The outtake "Closer" is up here on AO3. Look for it in my works. And don't worry about spoilers. The episode takes place at the day of Edward's big concert, but there's nothing you don't know already, mainly a few enlightening flashbacks and a hot lemon. Enjoy!

* * *


	34. Chapter 34

**Little Green and Easybella cont. (34)**

(BELLA)

I wake up on Saturday morning like I do every morning now. I haven't spent a single night in my own bed ever since the night I used my spare key to find Edward sleeping naked on his piano bench.

The first thing I become aware of is his warm and most welcome presence behind me. Our bodies are molding together so perfectly; it's almost funny.

We're lying on our left sides in what must look like a still pas des deux of sorts – left legs stretched out beneath us, right legs bent at the exactly same angle and practically glued together. Both our left arms are completely stretched out, too. Only his must be numb by now, with my head resting on his biceps, certainly cutting off the blood circulation. His other arm is tightly wound around my torso and his right hand holds mine.

I blissfully register all of this, every detail – from all the slightly sweaty areas where our bodies touch, to the damp spot in the nape of my neck where he is breathing into my hair.

I love it.

I also love the feeling of his morning wood pressing against my butt, not going to lie; it's awesome. I'm fully awake now, and I can't help but wonder whether there's enough time to… well, embrace the opportunity. A delicious heat is spreading between my thighs at the mere thought.

Jesus, I don't know myself any more.

I wish there was a way for me to get to my watch on the nightstand without causing too much turmoil, but not a chance. On the other hand, he is still asleep, which means it can't be that late yet. I have come to trust Edward's built-in clock; it's more reliable than a Swiss watch. So maybe we could…

I slowly move our joined hands down and between my legs, just… you know, kind of experimentally, so his palm cups my sex. I add a little pressure, and it feels incredibly good. His hand comes to life almost immediately. He curls his fingers, the tips dipping into the wetness that's already there, and his hips begin to stir.

Good morning, Little Green!

I'm getting really horny now, even more so when I hear his quiet, muffled groan. He starts kissing and nibbling at my neck, breathing heavier.  _Yes, please!_

I let go of his hand because really… it's doing an amazing job at driving me crazy with lust now without any further guidance. I reach up and rake my fingers through the soft curls on the back of his head.

"You want me… inside…?"

I smile at his words. It's so him, always getting right to the point.

"Yes," I whisper, and push my hips back, grinding against his remarkable hard-on.

With a hissed "Fuck," he rolls away from me, leaving me cold and stripped of his warm body for a moment, except for his arm under my head. His hand slips from between my legs, and I hear him fumble with the nightstand drawer. I'm impressed by the way he single-handedly gets a condom on himself, and pretty quickly at that.

He is back in less than a minute, same position, attached to my body head to toe like before. Only now his hand is on my hip, stroking, wandering down my thigh, and up again, circling my butt cheek. The tip of his cock nudging at my entrance.

"Bella?"

"Please…"

"I love you," he whispers next to my ear.

Then he pushes in. We both moan loudly at the sensation. Oh boy, this never gets old. This first moment, when I feel the thick head of his cock glide in is overwhelming. And fuck, he is big. So good, so good…

When he is all the way inside, we still for a moment. It's not that we need to adjust or anything; we just revel in the sensation of being connected like this, heightened by the anticipation of what's to come. It just feels too good. Edward is breathing noisily through his nose, warm puffs of air tickling the nape of my neck.

"I love you, too," I say.

He gasps, and suddenly his teeth are on my shoulder, biting down pretty hard. It actually hurts, but I'm too surprised to even utter as much as an "ouch". Also, he starts gyrating his hips, and the sensation of him moving inside of me drowns out the pain immediately. I curl my fist into the bed sheet and hold on tightly.

We are strangely quiet – no talking, not even moans – as if we were trying to not disturb the parents next door or something. Even though our breathing gets louder by the minute, occasionally mingling with a little whimper from me, or a stifled grunt on his behalf, we're not getting noisy for once. And for some reason, it turns me on even more.

Once again, I take his hand and lead him to where I'm so needy now. He loses momentum for a second but soon finds a rhythm, and I know this is going to be quick. He starts rubbing and circling my clit in time with his thrusts, and I come undone in a blink. I clench my legs and cry out, getting vocal at last.

He keeps going until it all becomes too much, too sensitive, and I have to stop him, once more covering his hand with mine. He starts moving faster, harder. His hand on my hip. His hand on my waist. Gripping tightly.

Suddenly there's a distance between our upper bodies. Goose bumps on my back, where my sweaty skin gets exposed. In my blissful daze I realize he is… oh fuck, he is watching now! Chasing his own release, he's looking down at where he is moving in and out of me.

That visual together with the force of his thrusts has my own body spiraling towards another high before I have even come down from the first. How is this happening? His hand on my shoulder, fingers digging into the dent above my collarbone… mercilessly, deliciously… holding me where he needs me to be.

I reach out and grab the edge of the mattress, trying to steady myself. My fingertips are numb from the death grip I had on the sheet all the time, but I hold on for dear life.

"Oh God, Edward, you're making me come… oh God, again… oh God!"

"Fuck, yes!" he moans, and pulls me flush against his chest again. He stills completely. A loud groan rumbles through his chest, and I can feel his cock pump and pulsate. My orgasm isn't that intense the second time around, but it seems to go on forever. And being there together with him, with my walls clenching around him as he spills himself inside of me, is mind-blowing in a totally new way.

Then we lay there, not quite as organized as when I woke up earlier, but a sweaty, sticky, panting heap of limbs. Neither of us is ready to break the connection yet.

"Holy shit," I whisper.

To my delight, Little Green snickers into my hair at my sentiment. After a few more moments of content silence, he announces, "You have to get up in ten minutes."

There! How the fuck does he do that? I can hardly tell what day of the week this is right now…

"Bella, I'm going to pull out. Don't jump."

I giggle. "Yeah, well… thanks for the warning."

He reaches down to where we're still joined, and I brace myself for the brief sensation of loss and cold I know will follow. He rolls away from me and his arm slips out from underneath my head. I pull my knees up to my chest and close my eyes to enjoy the last few minutes of post-coital bliss until Edward will be back from the bathroom.

But he doesn't leave the bed. He doesn't move at all.

"Edward? What's wrong?"

.

.

.

"Wow, that's a really nice freshly-fucked face you're sporting today, Miss Swan, if I ever saw one!"

"Thanks, Miss Denali. And good morning to you, too."

I don't even blush anymore at Tanya's saucy comments. She likes teasing me about my newly found love life way too much, but I know it's because she's genuinely happy for me. Her mouth is just as big as her heart.

"No, really," she says, smiling approvingly. "You're looking fab. Most women spend fortunes at the beauty parlor to get remotely close to that look, when all they need is to get properly laid, haha! Maybe I should try that cougar thing, too?"

I roll my eyes. "Jealous, much?"

"Honestly? Yes!" She snorts. "Say, does your ridiculously attractive boyfriend have a brother?"

"I'm afraid, no."

"Cousin?"

"Nope."

"I don't mind a bit of Asperger's, just saying. ADHD is fine, too. As long as he's as hot as –"

"Tanya!"

She snickers and holds her hands up defensively. "Okay, okay… coffee? You look like you could use one."

"Now we're talking."

She hands me a steaming mug and the smell of it is heaven right now. I close my eyes and inhale deeply. It's my first coffee of the day; Edward and I were late this morning – again. I smirk to myself as I replay the course of events in my mind…

.

.

" _Edward? What's wrong?"_

" _I think I… I need your help."_

_In a blink, I sat up and turned around, not knowing what to expect, but somewhat alarmed. Edward was still on his back, with his legs hanging over the edge. Apparently, he had trouble getting up._

" _What's wrong?" I asked again._

_He smiled sheepishly and nodded his chin towards his left shoulder. "My arm is numb, completely useless, and I…" A chin nod to the other side. "…I don't dare to let go of this."_

_I followed his gaze to where his right hand was carefully holding the condom in place._

" _Oh…" I pressed my lips together, trying hard not to burst into laughter at the sight of his strange predicament. After all, he had deadened his limb for the sake of my comfort._

" _So... dead like a door-nail, huh?"_

" _Yeah, pretty much," he confirmed. "I don't want to make a mess. Would you mind very much to…"_

_That was when I couldn't contain myself anymore. And Little Green, as he joined me in my giggle fit, still helplessly on his back like an upset turtle, and still holding on to the condom, was certainly a sight to behold…_

_._

_._

"Ground control to Bella, time to don the slavery gear."

Startled by Tanya's chipper voice, I almost drop my mug. Shrugging into her own drugstore apron, she shakes her head knowingly. "Wow, you must have had one pleasant way to start the day, judging by your dreamy smile!"

Well, if you consider making a knot in your temporarily disabled boyfriend's used condom before you've even brushed your teeth a pleasant way to start the day...

"Yes, I did," I answer and stick my tongue out at her. "But it's none of –"

"None of my business, yeah, yeah."

"Right. Although…"

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Hell, yes! Anything!" Her whole face lights up like a Christmas tree, and the way her brows nearly meet her hairline gives me worries.

"Don't get too excited, Denali. I'm not asking for your doubtlessly valuable sexpertise."

"Oh... that's too bad." She pouts. "I'm sure I could teach you a thing or two."

I bet she could. But I don't exactly feel like telling Tanya that Edward and I just recently did the mutual cherry-pop. Oh god, I would never live that down…

"Sorry, Dr. Ruth, it's not  _that_  sort of question. I just… you know…"

"What? Spill it, woman!"

"I want to get on the pill, ok? And my ob-gyn is practicing at Forks Community Hospital, but I don't want to go there because... because it's just weird, what with Edward's dad working there, too. It's just weird. So I thought, maybe you could recommend someone here in Port Angeles? Someone nice and trustworthy, you know? I've never been on the pill before, and I don't want to end up with some asshole doc. Or maybe I should get shots instead? What do you think? I heard those –"

"Holy shit, Swan!" Tanya steps forward and grabs my shoulders, effectively cutting off my rant. "Breathe between sentences, will you? You're going to hyperventilate."

I do as suggested and take a deep breath. Tanya leads me to the table and motions for me to sit down.

"Sooo…" she almost sings and smiles at me excitedly. "You guys are tired of the rubbers already, huh?"

I can only nod.

"Gotcha. And you've never been on the pill. Wow… I never thought you and Jake were trying to start a family."

"We weren't," I blurt.

It earns me another raised eyebrow. Fuck! I really should think before I open my mouth. With the sureness of a sleepwalker, Tanya knows how to touch the very subjects I definitely don't want to elaborate on. And fuck me, if I can't already see the wheels turning in that quick mind of hers.

"I mean, we were, kind of… but not really," I add lamely.

"Well, then you were lucky it didn't happen before you two figured out that you weren't meant to be, huh? A kid would have made everything much more complicated."

"Yes. Anyway, do you know one?"

"One what?"

"Ob-gyn!"

"Oh, sure. I'll give you the address of mine. Really nice lady. No prob."

"Thanks."

Tanya still looks deep in thought, when a ringing from the front door announces our first customer of the day. I sigh with relief, internally.

Saved by the bell!

.

.

.

It is an unusually busy day at Denali's Drugstore, and I'm kind of thankful for it. At least it keeps me occupied, or else I would check my cell every few minutes. I know, Edward most likely won't get any chance to text me, but I can't help myself. I'm constantly wondering how he's doing and if everything's working out for him on this important day.

When it's finally time to close the store, I can't take it any more. Before I even shrug out of my working gear, I get out my phone.

"So Edward is not picking you up today?" Tanya asks.

"No, he's still in Seattle. The concert rehearsals start next week, and they're having a first meeting today. He's going to meet the orchestra and the producers and such."

There are two text messages. I open the first one excitedly.

"Wow, that must be so cool…" Tanya muses.

"Yes, totally."

The message is not from Edward. Disappointment washes over me, followed by surprise when I notice the actual sender. What the…?

"Oh, and Bella, thanks again for the tickets! It was such a bummer when I learned the show was sold out. I wouldn't want to miss seeing Eddy on the big stage."

"You're welcome," I answer absentmindedly.

_'Hi Bells how R U doing?' - J_

Seriously, Jake? Slightly annoyed, I check the second text. It was sent an hour after the first.

_'Bells, when U read this pls answer me, K?' - J_

Crap, no! I really don't feel like texting with my ex right now. And what does he want anyway?

I snap the phone shut and toss it into my purse.

Suddenly, Tanya is beside me. "What is it, Bella? Bad news?"

"Not exactly, I think? I got a text from Jake."

"Seriously? What does he want?"

I shrug. "No idea. Just saying hi?"

"Bullshit! Ex-husbands never just call to say hi. You really look pissed off right now, if I may say so. You don't have to talk to him. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know. And I won't. Not tonight. Maybe I'll get back to him tomorrow."

Tanya smiles at me. "Good girl. And now hurry, or else you'll miss the bus. I'll finish up here."

.

.

.

The bus ride to Forks is dragging on forever. I didn't realize how much I got used to the comfort and time-saving of being chauffeured in Edward's car. Also, I'm quite eager to get home, because there is a slight chance that he'll be back already.

My heart jumps for joy when I finally arrive and see there's a light on in my apartment, and in my bedroom at that! So he used the spare key I gave him. Good.

I try not to get too excited with all those images filling my head, of a naked Little Green in my bed, the sheer magnitude of his beauty on full display, waiting for me and ready... I mean, it's still possible that he just crashed at my place, exhausted from meeting all those new people, right?

Should I wake him then? Oh yes, I should!

I turn the key as quietly as possible and tip-toe inside. I flinch when I close the door behind me and it shuts with a sharp click. After getting rid of my shoes, I sneak towards the open bedroom door and peek around the corner. The room is only illuminated by the small beside lamp, and yes, there he is in my bed, sound asleep.

Poor baby! It must have been so hard for him, getting introduced to a bunch of people and being the center of everyone's attention. I know how much he dreaded this meeting.

For a minute or two, I watch the rise and fall of the thick comforter covering his form. He has pulled it all the way up and even over his head, so it leaves his sock-clad feet uncovered. Apparently, he fell asleep sans shoes, but otherwise fully dressed.

Well, we need to change that, don't we?

I take off my clothes; I totally intend to make up for his hard day. Whether we will have sex or just hold each other, I don't care. I just want to love him and be close to him, one way or another.

When I'm naked, I walk around the bed and kneel down next to the head end. Carefully, with two fingers, I lift the comforter to uncover his face.

Then I scream…

.

.

.

I think I must have lost my mind for a second, because I have no idea how I ended up on the other side of the room, with my back against the wall and my hand clutching the bedside lamp, ready to strike.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I yell hysterically.

"Jesus Christ, Bells, you scared the shit out of me!"

I gasp.

"What the… I? Scared the shit? Out of YOU? Have you lost your goddamned mind? How did you get in here, for fuck's sake?"

He had jumped out of the covers like a Jack in the box when I let go that piercing shriek. Now he's sitting on the edge of the mattress, clutching his heart and looking at me reproachfully.

"I still have a key. And jeez, could you please put some clothes on, so we can talk like civilized human beings? Or do you still want to hit me with that lamp?"

I can't believe this is happening. Embarrassed, I try to cover my private parts while still holding the lamp.

"Jake, you… you had no right to use that key. You're not living here anymore."

"I know. I'm sorry, but…"

"And there's nothing civilized about breaking into  _my_  place and putting yourself to sleep in  _my_  bed and… fuck! What were you thinking?"

"I didn't break in. And I said I'm sorry, ok?"

"No, it's not ok!" I scream.

He gets up and starts walking towards me, holding up his hands in defense, and I completely lose it. I throw the lamp at him. He ducks away, unnecessarily so – held back by its cable, my make-shift missile snaps back and shatters right in front of my naked feet and the room goes dark.

That's when I hear a key turn in my apartment door, followed by the sound of the door clicking shut.

In the dark, and much too close for my liking, Jake whispers, "Who is that?"

I flinch and step back. I hiss when something sharp pierces painfully into my bare sole.

Then there's Edward's voice from the hallway.

"Bella?"

Crap!

 


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! For those of you who haven't read the Outtake 'Play' (JPOV):  
> the middle part of this chaptermirrors Edward's and Jasper's encounter of said outtake.
> 
> Important note/disclaimer: Mateo Messina is a RL person! (You can Google it, LOL)  
> He is a Seattle native, Grammy-winning film and symphony composer.  
> He actually worked on the benefit concert I mentioned beforehand in chapter 22.  
> But that's about it! Everything else is pure fiction, of course! :P

**Little Green and Easybella cont. (35)**

(EDWARD)

On days like this, I like to think of myself as a free diver.

In my mind, I picture myself falling, breaking the surface of a biosphere that I'm not made to live in, without any aids. It's neither easy nor pleasant, and I know it never will be, but years of hard training prepared me for this. In my mind, I hold my breath and perform whatever task is asked of me down there. I'm capable of holding my breath a long time, but it is very, very demanding.

I am supposed to reach out to 'normal' people, so I do that. All my life I've worked hard to learn their ways and their language, to be allowed a place in society. And even though I never mastered it to perfection, I was labeled 'highly verbal' eventually. And 'high-functioning'. It's like a certificate of sorts, so that I can go out and interact. A being-social license.

So I function. It doesn't mean I enjoy it though. How could I? It's not like I'm a tourist on a sightseeing trip. If you tell me to make friends with people, especially when those are unfamiliar to me, or to mingle in a group of strangers, it is like telling a 'normal' person to go out and make friends with fish.

"What's the problem? Jump right in, hold your breath and be nice!"

Imagine this. It's not only the physical discomfort. Try to figure out what everyone's up to, or what they might be thinking, while your head is under water… identical, unmoving fish faces, all of them, their talking meaningless bubbles in a confusing swirl that's clouding your sight. Try to control your breathing, to not panic at the effort. And don't forget to be nice.

I've been free diving quite a lot today, and now I'm dead on my feet. All I want now is going back to my safe haven where I can breathe easily; I'm almost flooring the gas pedal to get there.

Bella.

.

.

.

(BELLA)

Why, for fuck's sake, is this happening to me? I swear I'm this close to a complete meltdown; I will cry any moment.

In my pitch-black bedroom, I stumble along the wall while Edward's footsteps come closer. My right foot fucking hurts; I curse under my breath at my inconsiderate attempt to put weight on it. Awkwardly hopping and hobbling, I make it to the light switch. I turn on the ceiling light the very moment Edward's silhouette appears in the door.

.

.

.

(EDWARD)

When I stepped inside, the familiar smell of wood and honey welcomed me. I took I deep breath and knew it was the right thing to stop by Aro's Violins on my way to the kickoff meeting in Seattle. Aro used to attend to his instruments with bee wax, and the pleasant scent of it had always calmed me when I was a kid. That hadn't changed.

Apart from the mellow jingling of the antique bell above the front door, the store was as quiet as ever, the air impregnated with promises of music yet unheard. This was such a wondrous place.

My inner calm suffered a small setback when the backdoor curtain parted, and it wasn't Aro but his young assistant who appeared. He looked different than when I had met him the first time. The spiky Mohawk was gone. His hair was sleek and shiny; it looked darker.

"Oh, hi!" he greeted me. I could see his bright smile even without looking straight at him.

I wanted to be nice, but I was unsure about his name. He had introduced himself as Jazz, but Aro had called him Jasper. It made me a bit anxious that I didn't know how to properly address him.

"Hello, Jazz… sper?"

"Just Jazz," he said. "My friends call me Jazz."

This didn't really help to allay my confusion. Did he somehow consider me a friend enough to call him Jazz? Maybe because I was kind of friendly with Aro? Or was I supposed to call him Jasper, because…

"I am not one of your friends." I wasn't, by any means. I barely knew him.

"I was hoping we could become friends, so I would like for you to call me Jazz."

His declaration caught me off guard. My eyes snapped to his of their own volition, and I took in his face before I hastily averted my gaze again. His expression was impossible for me to read. Disappointment? Excitement? Anxiety even?  _Fish faces…_

It didn't make any sense. Neither did his words. So I decided to ignore them and get to business. I could easily avoid saying his name.

I held out Aro's paper-wrapped loan and said, "I brought the wrest."

He swallowed audibly, and after a moment of hesitating, he took the package from my hand. When he thanked me, he sounded strange suddenly, almost strangled. I was wondering if I should risk another brief look, just to check if he was okay. But he quickly found his voice again.

"Well, Aro isn't here right now. Shall I tell him you said hi?"

His comments got weirder and weirder – I had said no such thing.

"I didn't say hi."

"I mean, do you want me to let him know you were here? It's more of a polite, commonplace phrase, you know, like giving someone you missed your regards."

"Oh," I breathed.

Of course, a figure of speech…

Usually, I'm quite good with those; I like idioms because of the visuals they often bear. I'm thinking in images rather than in words anyway; I always did.

That's how I learned to deal with the chaos that spoken or written language had been to me as long as I can remember – assigning images to words and phrases, similar to my childhood communication cards that Esme had made for me.

Nouns were the easiest; the word  _table_  goes with the image of a table. A solid item, simple as that.

I visualized verbs, too. They were a tad harder to organize. The word  _running_  would trigger the memory of the other kids in school dashing out of the classroom at the ringing of the bell. A quite accurate visual. But up to this day, the phrase  _running nose_  gives me mental hiccups, picture-wise.

Abstract concepts were the hardest, like  _danger_  and  _safety_. Or relations, like  _early_  versus  _late_. Same with spatial words such as  _over_  and  _under_. Those had no meaning for me until a certain event or experience would provide a visual I could associate them with.

I still mess them up occasionally.

Saying hi to someone who isn't present, I mean literally standing here and saying it, had seemed an odd image to me just a minute ago. But I really liked to send my regards to Aro, and I was thankful for Jazz's offer to pass them on.

I noticed that I had started to call him by his friend-name in my mind. Maybe because he really was  _friend-ly_ …

"I think, I'd like to say hi to Aro then," I informed him.

I will probably replay this scene in my head every time I'll hear this phrase again. It is now fixed in my memory, ready for instant recall.

"Please tell him I was here and that I'm sorry I missed him."

"Okay."

"And thank you for explaining it to me," I added, emphasizing my sentiment with a polite nod and a smile. It was a genuine smile; I felt comfortable.

Then Jazz asked me about Bella, and I felt my smile grow even wider. It's simply what happens to me every time I think of her. I told him that she was still at work and that I would pick her up soon. Then I remembered that I actually wouldn't today; it would drive all the way to Seattle instead, for that dreaded meeting. And my smile fell.

"She is very pretty," Jazz commented.

I wasn't sure if he knew it or not, but I felt the urge to tell him that Bella is my girlfriend. So I did just that.

"Oh, I know that," he backpedaled. "I didn't mean to…"

"I'm going to marry her," I blurted. Out of nowhere, the images had formed in my mind, with perfect clarity… the rings, her dress, flowers, her lips smiling as the wedding vows fall from them.

I would marry her!

"Really? That's awesome, congratulations!"

I snapped out of my musings and shook my head no. It was just a thought yet, too early for congratulations. I shouldn't have said it. I was mad at myself. No matter how solid the visual, I should propose to Bella first, before shouting it out like a moron!

"I haven't asked her yet," I clarified. Yet I couldn't help to add, "But I  _will_  marry her."

"She would be stupid if she didn't say yes."

For the second time, I looked up and faced Jazz without even thinking about it. Had he just called Bella stupid? Or not? I dropped my gaze to his mouth as if that could help me to understand the meaning of his remark.

He licked his lips and said, "I am a musician, too, you know?"

I was so puzzled that my anger dissolved into thin air. Why would he tell me that? This Jazz guy really kept going off track. Did he do that on purpose?

I was still watching his mouth that now widened into a huge smile. Suddenly, his earlier comment about hoping to become friends with me started to make sense. A musician. He was pointing out a common ground, obviously.

"What do you play?" I asked him, intrigued.

His smile grew even wider. "Oh, I play anything stringed. Right now, I play bass in a band. But I actually like playing guitar better. And I sing."

I watched as his smile faded a little. Then he bit his bottom lip similar to the way Bella sometimes does when she is insecure about herself. I realized that telling me all those things bore a meaning to him; my  _opinion_  held a meaning.

"That's great, Jazz," I said.

He was trying to bond with me over the music; I could see that. And he was worrying his bottom lip because he was afraid I would reject his advances.

And of course, I would reject them!

I do not make friends just like this. I'd been holding my breath long enough already, maintaining this conversation. I'm not like him; he surely must have noticed that.

I couldn't do this. Or could I?

This was about music. Why else would he want to have anything to do with me?

Music. Maybe we could meet there, halfway, communicating through a medium both of us were comfortable with. I wouldn't have to strain myself. I could breathe there.

Jazz was making an effort to reach out to  _my_  world. The idea of rejecting this effort made me feel bad. He was a weird guy, but who am I, talking of weird?

"I have a piano at my place," I said before I lost my courage. "Maybe we can play together some time. If you'd like?"

All at once my heart was beating in my throat, and I wished I could take back what I just had said. What if he and I didn't get along musically. I hadn't even asked what kind of music he liked - what if he was a bad musical amateur? How would I get out of this then?

What if I had misinterpreted his sentiment anyway and he now thought I had lost my mind to jump to assumptions like that?

I was just about to tell him I made a mistake, when his soft voice put me out of my misery.

"I would really love that, Edward."

The unexpected turns of events had taken its toll; I couldn't think of a proper reply, or even decide if this whole affair was a good thing or not. One can only deal with so much. I needed to get out, badly.

I managed to say, "Bye, Jazz." And that was it. I turned on my heel and left. I didn't know any more if coming here had really been such I good idea.

.

.

.

(BELLA)

The room lights up and reveals a scene as surreal as it gets. Me, naked, leaning against the wall and balancing on one foot. And there is blood dripping from my other foot. Blood! Oh my God…

I order myself to not look at it; if I pass out now – yeah, that would be just perfect!

"Bells, who is that?" Jake again whispers behind me.

He is towering over me, probably flexing his ridiculous muscles and showing his best don't-mess-with-the-big-guy face.

Edward has stopped dead in his tracks. He just stares, his face completely stripped of any expression. He doesn't move. Neither of us does.

After a few endless seconds, I notice a subtle change in Little Green's frozen posture, so miniscule it's hardly visible. But I can feel it, like some sort of voltage rippling through his body, and it gives me goose bumps all over.

So this is it – shit is going to hit the fan in three… two… one…

.

.

.

(EDWARD)

In the end, the meeting wasn't that bad. Maybe I already was somewhat desensitized by my encounter with eager Jazz. Maybe it was my alone-time in the car while focusing on nothing but the traffic and the hypnotizing way the street was rolling away under my trusted Volvo that had put me together again. I couldn't tell.

What I could tell, however, was that someone must have had instructed most of the attendees. Someone had given them a heads up and told them how to behave around me. It was too obvious, and I wasn't sure if I liked it.

The Northcliffe Founder's Room of Benaroya where the gathering was held was already crowded when I arrived, and at first I didn't know where to go or who to turn to. People were talking and laughing in pairs, and groups of three or four gathered around bar tables; a cacophony of chatter.

I nervously tried to estimate the number of bodies forming this huge  _swarm_. The idea of having to talk to all of them, and the sheer amount of hands I'd possibly have to shake made me dizzy.

One person broke away from the mass and walked towards me. I breathed a sigh of relief when I recognized Mateo, my co-composer and mentor in this enterprise. It was good to see him.

"Edward, such a pleasure to see you!" He greeted me elatedly before he even stopped walking, more than an arm's length in front of me.

"The pleasure is all mine," I replied honestly.

He tilted his head to one side and raised both his hands mid-torso. "Would it be ok if I…?"

"Yes, I'd love to," I answered his unfinished question, and we both stepped forward.

With one arm around my shoulder, he gave me a hug. He didn't hold me though; he knew me better. It was just a quick, hard squeeze; followed by two hearty pats between my shoulder blades – in a blink, I was released again. It was perfect.

"Ok, let's get this show on the road, my friend, shall we? The sooner we get going, the sooner this will be over, and we can focus on what's important and get to work."

I nodded my head yes and smiled, grateful for him to take the lead.

"Ok, here's how it goes…"

He laid out his plans for this evening to me, and I grew more confident the longer I listened.

He couldn't spare me the close encounters with the V.I.P's, of course, like the biggest sponsors, the director of the Seattle children's hospital, our conductor… But he somehow had managed to keep the local press off of my back. I hadn't even considered there would be any press people invited, but I was beyond thankful not to have to do any interviews. I was definitely not prepared for this!

He also had decided to invite me to the podium when he gave his speech, so he could introduce me to the entire audience, orchestra members included, all at once.

"No need for you to shake a bazillion hands tonight," he said. "You will get to know the musicians soon enough when we start rehearsing."

I really had no problem with that.

When he called my name, I stepped up to the podium, and Mateo and I shared a firm handshake, gripping each other's elbow. Then I turned to the faceless crowd and just spoke the truth – that I was happy and honored to be a part of this project, and that helping to provide the best care for sick children was a cause dear to my heart.

The people applauded, and the worst part was over.

Even though my words had come fluently, I started shaking all over as soon as I had left the podium. The realization hit me that, no matter how short, this had been my first public speech ever.

The rest of the evening went pretty smoothly. I stayed close to Mateo most of the time, and all that was required of me in the conversation department were a few friendly nods here and there, with a "Thank you" or a "Pleased to meet you" thrown in for good measure.

No one seemed to expect anything else from me. No one got nosy; no one approached me without being introduced by my mentor. It was almost eerie.

When Mateo hinted to me that I could take my leave now without appearing rude, I  _had_  to ask him.

"Did you tell these people about me, so they'd leave me alone?"

He scratched his head awkwardly and cleared his throat. "Well, I did, kind of."

"So you told them I'm not capable of interacting with them because I'm disabled?"

"Edward," he said, "I definitely didn't say anything like that." To my utmost surprise, he broke into laughter. I couldn't help but grin at the sight of his sudden hysterics.

"But what  _did_  you tell them? And how?"

"It was really easy," he wheezed, trying to catch his breath. "I just picked a few of the biggest tattlers and spoke to them confidentially. There's no better way to spread the news, you know."

"And what news did you spread that way?"

"I basically told them you're a total prick."

_What?_

"Too talented for your own good, but the most arrogant douchebag ever. Best to leave you alone."

He broke into another laughing fit.

"Don't worry, the orchestra members will see it isn't so soon enough. I'm sorry, Edward, but it worked, right?"

"It did," I said, quite amused. "Thanks, that was really smart."

Mateo wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. "You're welcome."

.

.

.

(BELLA)

Edward lunges out. He grabs me and swings me around and behind his back, putting himself as a shield between me and my flabbergasted ex-husband.

It happens too suddenly for Jake to react. His jaw drops and he watches incredulously as Edward moves backwards, half crouching like an animal ready to pounce, securing me to his back with one arm around my waist.

We pass the door and enter the hallway in this weird kind of crabwalk, and Jacob still hasn't moved yet.

"Jake," I call out to him. "Close the door!"

That seems to rattle his stupor. "Bells, what the…?"

Oh God, this is the big, black German Shepherd and the garden spade all over again. They will fight if Jacob doesn't stay back. And just like with the dog back then, Little Green won't pay the size difference between himself and his opponent any mind – Jacob will eat him alive…

"Please, it's okay, Jake. I'm okay; just close the door. And don't come out before I say so!"

"Bells!"

Edward gives a growl of sorts.

"Now, Jake!"

I hear the bedroom door snap shut. Thank fuck!

.

.

.

(EDWARD)

I almost suffocate from the amount of adrenaline flooding my system; there's not enough oxygen in this room. I don't know what is happening here, but all my alarm bells went off and now they form a deafening white noise in my head.

Bella is talking behind me as I hold her close to me. I can't make out what she's saying. She is struggling, but I can't let her go. I'm the shield, the only shield between her and  _him_. Nothing but me and the door. Behind that door, right behind that door is  _him_.

Oh God, what did he do to her? Is she hurt? My vision gets clouded with something close to a thick, black fog. Through the pinpoint view that is left, I keep watching the door.

I shake my head, but the fog won't dissipate. Is it the anger stealing my eyesight, or the lack of oxygen?

I cannot faint now; this is serious. Breathe! I need to breathe!

I need to think.

Fight or flight… fight or flight…

Bella keeps talking.

I don't listen. Without taking my eyes off of the door, I scan my memory of Bella's place for possible weapons. Anything I could use to defend her against Jake, should he decide to come at us.

Wait… Jake?

She called him Jake!

A fresh wave of adrenaline makes me stumble on my feet for a second, just enough time for Bella to cork-screw out of my grip. She appears in front of me and cups my cheeks with both hands.

"Edward, my love… my heart! Look at me!"

It is him! Jake – that's her husband. It's her husband there behind the door…

"Little Green, please! I'm not in any danger. Please look at me, baby."

I do. And I speak.

"It's the asshole."

Her face registers confusion for a moment. Then she nods her head yes.

"Yes, it's Jacob, my ex-husband. He means no harm."

_Jacob. Ex. Husband._

"Did he hurt you?"

"No, he didn't." She lets go of my face and looks down on herself. "I hurt myself, accidentally."

I follow her gaze and gasp. She's bleeding.

I still don't know what has happened and what could have led to the situation I came upon. But there are things that need to be attended to. Simple things. I'm glad for simple things right now. I can deal with simple things.

First off, Exhusbandasshole!

I grab the next best chair, take the few steps to the bedroom door and open it. Asshole is still standing in the same spot. Good. At the sight of me, he raises his hands, palms towards me. "Hey, man…"

I don't wait for whatever he's going to say. I slam the door shut again and wedge the chair under the knob. An exasperated "Hey!" from the inside indicates that Asshole doesn't like it. He rattles the door frantically. He curses. I couldn't care less.

Second, covering Bella.

I take the woolen plaid off of Bella's couch and put it around her shoulders. She must be so cold. I rub her shoulders for a bit to warm her up. She whispers my name – my secret name – and a single tear rolls down her cheek. I kiss it away.

"I've got you, Bella," I say. "I've got you."

There.

Third, tending to the wound on the sole of her foot.

I scoop her up and carry her to the bathroom. I can hear Asshole call his disrespectful one-syllable version of my woman's name. I can hear him banging at the bedroom door.

I don't care. I'll get to him later.


	36. Chapter 36

**Little Green and Easybella cont. (36)**

(BELLA)

Little Green tending to my injured foot is a silent procedure. If you don't count the constant noises coming from my bedroom, that is. Jake has finally stopped bawling my name, but judging by the relentless banging and rattling, he will have freed himself in a few moments. I do my best to ignore it for now.

Edward doesn't even seem to notice; he is so focused on his task. Sometimes I envy his ability to completely block out his surroundings. The only thing he uttered since he lowered me down on the toilet lid and kneeled in front of me to clean the wound was an occasional 'shh, shhh...' every time I flinched.

That's it. No questions. No accusations. No nothing.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

Edward puts the wash cloth aside and examines my sole.

"It's not that bad."

I have no idea if that's supposed to be the answer to my question, or if he is referring to my injury. When he looks up at me, I'm taken aback by the weariness in his unsmiling eyes. I realize how much of a stretch the day must have been for him anyway, even without Jake showing up and ruining it completely. This special day he's been dreading and looking forward to in equal measures. We were supposed to celebrate tonight instead of…  _this!_ I haven't even had a chance yet to ask how his important meeting went.

"I think you caught a splinter," he says, all business. "Do you have some, you know… to pull it out… a pincher?"

"Tweezers?"

"Tweezers, yes." He closes his eyes and I watch him mouth that word a few times.

"In the mirror cabinet. There's iodine and band aid and everything, too."

He gives a silent nod, and with some effort, he gets on his feet, using the sink to pull himself up. When he opens the cabinet to retrieve the necessary items, there's a loud clatter outside that makes us both jump.

The sound is followed by heavy footsteps, and then Jake's booming voice right behind the bathroom door. "Bells, are you in there? Are you alright?"

I don't have a chance to answer before the door flies open. Edward steps in front of me protectively, holding my tweezers in his tight fist and pointing it at my towering ex-husband as if he held a dagger, and not the pathetic, tiny instrument I used to pluck my brows with.

"Jake, out!" I yell, afraid that Edward will act on pure instinct and do something stupid.

"Bells…"

"I'm fine! Just wait outside, will you? Get yourself a coffee or something. I'm sure you still know the way around here." Or maybe he doesn't. I can't remember if he actually ever operated the coffee-maker himself.

He gives me a doubtful look over Edwards shoulder, but doesn't move an inch.

"Now, Jake!"

Thankfully, he doesn't object. With one last squinting glance at Edward, he turns on his heels and stomps out of the room. "I'll be in earshot," he yells behind the closed door. Whatever that means.

Edward turns around, gets down on his knees again as if nothing happened, and holds out his hand for my foot. It's kind of eerie how calm he is. This is not a natural reaction at all, and it creeps me out. I wish he would talk to me, interrogate me, yell at me, anything…

I want to explain myself, get things straight. I want to put his mind at ease. But something tells me he needs this time-out, a moment to sort things out in his mind. And focusing first on fixing what can be fixed easily is what gives him that moment. So I just put my heel into his waiting palm and let him do the job.

But when he approaches the spot where the tiny piece of glass sits with the tweezers, his hand starts to shake more and more, the closer he gets. After a few futile tries, I grab his wrist and say, "It's okay. I'll do it myself."

With a sigh, he closes his eyes. "Just give me a minute. I can do this." He looks utterly defeated in that moment, like he's dead on his feet.

"I know you can. But you don't have to."

I gently pry the tweezers from his grip and put them on the rim of the sink next to me. He is still cradling my foot, now in both hands resting on his thighs, as I lean forward and cup his face. He opens his eyes. They are red-rimmed.

"Edward, please let me expl…"

"Did he do something to you?" he cuts in.

"No."

"Then why are you hurt?"

"It was an accid…"

"Why is he here? And why are you naked? Did he try to… did he try anything? Force you? I just… are you really okay?"

"Edward…"

"Or did you want him to… want to be with him? I don't… I… why is he back?"

Okay, there we go – the floodgates are open. I bend down even further, ignoring the sharp sting as my injured foot slips out of Edward's hands and hits the floor tiles, and wind my arms tightly around his shoulders. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, and the rocking starts right away. I can't even say who started it, and it's a bit awkward for me in my position, but here we are, swaying back and forth in a tight embrace.

His breath is hot and heavy on my skin where he presses his mouth and nose against my neck. And when he speaks again after a few more sways, his words come out as a feeble, muffled mumbling.

"Iddy bag o goo?"

"Come again?"

He turns his head a little, and this time it's merely a whisper. "Is he back for good?"

"Hell, no!"

_Jesus!_

I pull away and grab his face to make him look me in the eye.

"Listen to me, love. This certainly looks weird, to say the least, and it's totally fucked up. But don't you ever…"

_Fuck!_

"Okay, let's do this step by step. First off, I had no idea he would come here and I didn't invite him. Do you understand that?"

A nod, hesitatingly so.

"Good. Because this is important. I didn't know, okay? He was already here when I came home."

Another nod. Then he swallows and his eyes grow wide. "How did he get in here?"

"He had a key. And I didn't know about that either."

"He must give it back to you. You want it back, don't you?"

 _Oh, you can bet your ass on it!_ "Of course! He doesn't live here anymore."

Again with the nod. He takes a deep breath and waits patiently for me to carry on. My heart swells with love for my man. There he is, probably scared to death about this mess, all kinds of crazy thoughts about my ex coming back to steal me from him. And all he does is listen to my explanations, trusting in them to bring sense to an utterly surreal scenario. I will do my best not to disappoint him, no matter how riled up I still am myself.

"Anyway, I am naked because when I came home…"

"Bells, is everything alright in there?" Jake hollers outside, making us both flinch again. I didn't hear him approach. God, he is annoying.

"I'm good!" I yell back. "Go away and shut up!"

"Fine," he snaps. "If you need me, I'm out here on the couch, ALL BY MYSELF and with NO clue what the heck is going on, okay? Thank you very much!"

I don't even deign a reply to that bullshit. When the fading sound of Jake's stomping steps indicates that he is actually going away, I hear Edward mumble quietly to himself. It sounds like _'Asshole'_ , but I'm not quite sure.

.

.

(JACOB)

_What the fuck?_

.

.

(BELLA)

After that last incident, Jake thankfully keeps himself off the radar, most likely sulking away on my couch, and I can finally unravel the unfortunate story of this night's events, undisturbed.

Edward listens quietly, without moving so much as his pinkie. He watches me so intently; I'm not sure he's even blinking. And he doesn't interrupt me as I'm explaining the reason why I took my clothes off, that I thought it was him in my bed, and how I was shocked like fuck when I found out it wasn't. I tell him about the lamp and how it was my own fault I stepped on the broken glass.

"And that's it," I say eventually. "He texted me earlier. Looked like he wanted to talk, but I didn't feel like answering. I had no idea he would be here."

Little Green still looks at me as though he's waiting for the point of my story, a punchline or something.

"That's it," I repeat. "Really."

Finally he stirs. Taking a deep breath, he straightens himself and grabs the corner of the blanket that has slipped down and off my right shoulder, and pulls it up again to cover me properly. It's such a sweet gesture, and I mouth 'thank you' to him.

"So he didn't touch you?"

"He didn't."

"Even though you were naked?"

"Actually, he was telling me to put some clothes on."

"Really?" Judging by the way his frown deepens, he seems to have a hard time believing me.

"Really," I assure him.

"That's weird, isn't it?"

"Uhm… not exactly. He's always been like that with me, more or less."

"He  _is_  an asshole!"

With a huff, Edward gets on his feet and starts pacing, which mostly means taking one step towards the door and one step back to me, given how tiny my bathroom is. It's only then I notice how gorgeous he looks in his three-piece suit he's still wearing from the meeting in Seattle – even with those dark shadows under his eyes. Once again I regret that this evening has ended in such a clusterfuck.

"Edward," I say to make him stop moving around like a caged animal. And here goes my deeply rooted habit of protecting my ex-husband's facade…

"Jacob is gay, Edward."

Fuck it – it was a bad habit anyway.

He stops dead in his tracks, but his face doesn't register surprise like I expected. Instead, it contorts into a mask of utter disgust. With a snarl, he retorts, "I don't care if he is gay. So what? He is an asshole who likes penises then. Fine. But he is still an asshole, and I want him to leave."

_Wow!_

I'm shocked at his outburst, but oddly enough, the only thing I really process right now is the fact that even in his sudden anger, he doesn't say 'cock' or 'dick', which I find almost hysterical in this moment. It's just so Little Green, even if being mad like that isn't.

Edward picks the tweezers up off the sink and crouches down in front of me. "Let's get that splinter out, and then you'll go and make him leave, or I'll do it."

Holy shit, where's that coming from? In Little Green standards, this must be considered A-1 caveman attitude.

He grabs my foot and turns it into the light beam coming from the mirror cabinet. "He treated you badly while he was married to you, when he shouldn't have married you in the first place. It's just not right. Hold still."

With one unerring move, he pulls the glass shard out of my sole, almost angrily. His hands have stopped shaking, and the job is done before I notice.

"And what was he thinking, breaking into your place? He is not a good man, Bella. He is an asshole, thinking nothing but asshole thoughts, and I want him gone. This may hurt a bit… sorry."

I'm still too stunned to even notice the mild sting when he puts some iodine on the small wound. I gape at him, weirdly turned on by his angry protectiveness that stands in such sharp contrast to the gentle way he is taking care of me at the same time.

"What was he thinking?" Edward mutters under his breath, shaking his head as he starts taping me up.

"I don't know, love," I say softly. "Maybe he needed someone to talk to. Maybe he was so upset about something that he wasn't thinking clearly. I didn't answer his texts. It's probably been a kind of snap decision to use the key and wait here for me. He meant no harm."

"But he did harm. I don't want to hear any of that. He scared you so much that you hurt yourself. I want him nowhere near you. If he doesn't leave, I swear…"

"Edward –"

"This conversation is over."

My jaw drops.  _Really now?_

"I'll go and retrieve your key," he says and stands. "I'll tell him to go."

"Oh no, you won't!" I yell at him, finally gathering my wits. "You have as little right to decide who's to stay or who's to leave here as Jake had to let himself in. This is still my place!"

"Then go and tell him yourself!" he shouts back.

And there we have it – our first argument. Over Jake. But even though in this very moment, Edward's asshole theory kind of grows on me, I'm totally pissed off. At Edward for ordering me around, at Jacob for the stunt he pulled at the worst possible time, and at myself for this annoying ambivalence, feeling irritated and turned on at once by Edward's attitude.

"I will," I say and move to get up, bracing myself on the sink. When I try to put some weight on my bandaged foot, I'm relieved to find it's not as bad as I expected. But I flinch a little nonetheless, and Edward is with me in a blink, steadying me.

"Shall I get you some clothes?"

His voice has gone back to Little Green velvet and as usual, it doesn't fail to affect me, which pisses me off even more. Also, the thought of waiting here while he fetches my clothes from the bedroom, which means passing by Jake, doesn't strike me as such a good idea.

Nodding my chin towards the hook on the door, I say brusquely, "The robe will do just fine." I limp over, still supported by Edward's hand under my elbow, and shrug into the terrycloth. He reaches down to help me tie the belt but lets his hands fall when he sees me quickly doing it myself.

"I'll speak with Jake now. I want you to wait here; can you do that for me?"

He nods his head yes, looking utterly crestfallen. "You'll tell him to leave, yes?"

"I'm sorry, no. He can sleep on my couch. Tomorrow I will talk to him and find out why he came here. We'll sort things out and  _then_  he will leave."

"Bella, no. I can't leave you here with him around. It's impossible; I just can't!"

"You don't have to. I'll sleep at your place."

He clenches his teeth but doesn't answer.

"Edward, you have to trust me," I say, more softly now.

"I do trust you. It's him I don't trust."

"I know. But it's like with you and Esme, sort of. She really did an 'asshole thing' to us, didn't she? But you forgave her really quickly, and even though I definitely don't feel like you in this matter, I do understand why you thought she was worth it. Jake and I literally have been friends since we learned to walk. I just have to give him the benefit of a doubt."

He tilts his head and, in true Little Green manner, starts thinking this through.

"I'm still mad at Esme," I push. "I just can't help it. But I supported your decision to reconcile with her because that was what you wanted. All I'm asking is that you do the same for me now."

He takes a deep breath and says, "I'll wait here. But I'll leave the door open."

"If it makes you feel better…"

I don't get an answer. He just looks at me with those weary eyes.

"I'll make it quick," I promise and open the door.

As I step into the hallway, leaving the door ajar, I hear a whispered "I love you, Bella."

.

.

(JACOB)

_What the fuck?_

.

.

(BELLA)

I've locked the door of Edward's bathroom from the inside; I just need a few minutes to myself. I'm still in my robe, since he swooped me up and carried me away as I was the very moment I stopped talking to Jake. My face in the mirror looks almost as tired as his. Serves me right.

The conversation with Jake was so fucked up, I soon began to contemplate doing as Edward had asked of me and kick my ex out with no further ado. But when I learned that, after giving up the garage in Forks when he moved to Seattle with Seth, he still hadn't found a job and was basically living off his boyfriend's money, I didn't have the heart. He couldn't afford a hotel and I wouldn't let him spend the night in his car.

Also, he had cleaned up the mess in my bedroom – which was pretty remarkable, since he'd never moved a finger in this household before – and managed to brew himself a coffee without ruining my kitchen. That earned him some points, after all. Last but not least, he handed me the key without hesitation, and even apologized for using it.

Just as I suspected, he and Seth got into a fight about something, and as was his way, Jake had run from the conflict. I cut him short, promising we would talk about it in the morning if he was still here, and told him to just close the door behind himself, should he decide to leave some time during the night. And that was it.

I almost wish he  _would_  decide to leave before daybreak. But if he doesn't, I will try to be a good friend and listen. At least, I won't act like an asshole myself then, and I really hope Little Green will understand.

Did I ask too much of him? I honestly think I didn't. I'm still having trouble wrapping my head around how adamant he was about getting rid of Jake… how bossy he became, how angry. I don't think I ever heard him raising his voice like that before. Except for when he learned about the letters that Esme had kept from us both. But he never yelled at  _me_  before.

I know it was a lot to take in for him, but so it was for me. And I didn't get myself out of a suffocating marriage to let my new boyfriend get away with bossing me around like that. No, Sir. Definitely not.

But I so wish it hadn't come to this. He was just scared and overly protective. But never once did he doubt me; never once did he stop taking care of me, no matter how angry he was.

With a sigh, I bend down and splash my face with some cold water. I need to get out of here before Edward starts worrying and comes to see what's wrong. He definitely has worried enough about me for one night.

When I enter the bedroom, Edward has already crashed on his king size bed, eyes closed, spread-eagle and clad only in his boxers. His suit and shirt are in a heap on the floor. Given his usual OCD tendencies, he must be really, really tired to leave his clothes like that.

He is breathing slowly and evenly. Finally overcome by his severe fatigue, my poor love has fallen asleep while I was in the bathroom, collecting my thoughts.

I know it kinda sucks to end the day without some more clearing talk, but I'm not going to wake him. I don't have the heart. But maybe I can offer a little comfort with the warmth of my body while he's sleeping.

I add my robe to the badly creased heap of pinstripes on the floor and slowly crawl onto the mattress, as quiet as possible. I pull the comforter over us both and snuggle up to his sleeping form. He rolls onto his side, as if by instinct, and puts his arm around my middle.

I gingerly stroke his neck, using my fingertips and a bit of nails, just as I know he likes it. My hand moves down to his back, drawing a circle around his shoulder blade, and up again… along the curve of his shoulder, down the underside of his upper arm and to his elbow. There I take a turn and let my grazing fingers wander all the way back to his neck, right under his jaw. From there I start over again. Up and down, up and down…

Edward lets go a quiet moan. I still my hand for a moment, not wanting to interrupt his much needed rest.

"Don't stop," he mumbles.

"I thought you were sleeping," I say as I resume caressing him.

"Mmmh… just too tired to open my eyes."

"Then don't; it's okay."

He snuggles closer, tightening his one-armed embrace. "He could have slept in a hotel."

I sigh. "No, he couldn't."

"In his car then. It's not that cold."

"Edward! Don't!"

He huffs a little, but lets it go. For now.

After a while he says, "I'm glad you're with me now."

"There's nowhere I'd rather be."

My fingers have broadened their trip around the hills and valleys of his body, now exploring his waist and hip, and I just can't resist the urge to run them along the front of his boxers. He is half-hard, and when I turn my hand around to palm him over the fabric, he breathes, "God, yes."

Surprised but encouraged by his reaction, I slip my hand under the waistband of his boxers and stroke him, skin to skin. His hips push forward, pressing his semi hard-on into my palm, and he starts humming quietly. After a few more strokes though, I feel him softening in my hand.

"I'm sorry," he says drowsily. "I don't think this is going to work."

I snicker quietly. "That's okay, love. I wasn't expecting anything."

When I start to withdraw my hand, he grabs my upper arm. "Please, no. If you don't mind, can you keep doing that? Just for a while? It's so soothing."

"Of course I don't mind. I love touching you."

He lets go of my arm and relaxes. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

So we lie there, in silence, and I'm fondling his limp cock until the humming stops and his breathing slows down. Just when I think he's finally asleep, he whispers, "I'm sorry that I yelled at you."

"I know. I'm sorry for yelling back."

The next second, he is out cold. I'm not even sure if he heard my answer. When sleep begins to claim me too, I kiss his forehead and wish him sweet dreams. I let my hand rest where it is, gently holding his soft cock. I'm still doing that when I open my eyes to the new day.

 


	37. Chapter 37

**Little Green and Easybella cont. (37)**

(BELLA)

I wake up from a dreamless sleep, feeling like I closed my eyes mere seconds ago. But it's already daylight, so it must have been a few good hours. However, neither of us seems to have moved one bit; everything is like I remember it was when I fell asleep. Well, everything except for one thing – either my fingers have shrunk, or…

.

.

(EDWARD)

That nether land between sleeping and awaking is a curious place. I'm still dreaming, very intensely so, but at the same time I'm fully aware of the fact that I'm dreaming. In this state, it is always possible to willingly wake up, should the dream take a not so pleasant turn. And it is equally easy to slip back into a light slumber and resume dreaming, should I be eager for a sequel. Sometimes, if I'm really lucky, I can even take control of my dreams in that short time window before becoming fully alert, almost like a movie director.

Today, I'd really like to stay a bit longer in these current visions and feelings of dream-me making love to dream-Bella, intensified by the sensation of real Bella's hand wrapped around my very real morning erection. In my sleep-drugged head, I wonder how she can even maintain such a steady grip on me with all our thrusting. Until I realize in that small conscious spot of my mind that it's just my dream-hips moving, while in reality we're both asleep and lying still.

I really want this dream to last. But I'm not that lucky this morning. The sudden appearance of a huge, black-haired man standing in the open door of my bedroom and watching our love-making threatens to ruin my bliss. I push the uncalled-for image away, trying to scratch his character from my dream script, but to no avail. If anything, my efforts cause his shape to grow more solid and sharper. And when the lucid part of me feels Bella's hand slip away, leaving me cold and throbbing in the real world, I take the last resort.

I order myself to wake up.

The visions of naked skin and sweet beads of sweat dissipate, and so does the disturbing presence of ex-husband asshole. I open my eyes to make him disappear quicker; they connect with warm brown irises right in front of me.

Real Bella.  _My_  Bella.

Not his anymore..

"Hi," she says softly and smiles at me.

_Mine. Not his._

I pull her close and hitch my leg around her waist. With my hands cradling her face, I kiss her forehead, her brows and her cheeks. I shower her with happy, little pecks, keeping my lips closed but my eyes open, to reassure myself that she is…

_Mine!_

…here, filling up all my senses – I smell, feel, hear, watch her. As undemanding as my kissing is, the sensation of my hard penis pressing against her skin has my hips rolling and grinding without my volition. And as always, her body is answering.

When my mouth meets hers, she dips her tongue between my lips. I open up all too willingly, and rake my fingers through her sleep-tangled hair. With our kiss deepening, jumpstarting that sweet rollercoaster in my stomach, the last flicker of my dream comes to nothing. Time stops. This is just now, just here… just us.

My penis is leaking with arousal; the moisture spreads between our bodies, making the friction maddeningly smooth along the tip. I can't stop the grinding. I want to get up, fetch a condom and make love to her… I want to be inside her so badly, come inside her. But I can't bring myself to stop. I can't even break the kiss. Putting any distance between us, if only for one second, is unthinkable right now. I can't let go.

But Bella pulls back. With one last lick across my bottom lip, she pulls back and looks at me with hooded eyes from under her lashes. While I still hold her beautiful face in my palms, she slides her hand back down between us, and I let go a whimpering sound when her touch hits home.

Her grip is tight, yet her fingers around the base of my penis feel like velvet. She gives a single, slow stroke, and I jerk my hips and cry out. I want to apologize, but her eyes that are glued to mine light up, telling me she liked that.

She licks her lips. Those lips… God, I know what those lips can do; I know what they can do to  _me_. And the sight of her tongue wetting them, leaving them lush and glistening, makes the heat inside me explode and spread through my entire body like a liquid.

She strokes me once more, almost burning me alive. "I want you in my mouth," she whispers, and all I can manage for an answer is exhaling a shuddering breath. Her words are both my salvation and my undoing; I feel as though I'm suffocating with want.

"Let go of my face, baby. Let me go down on you."

_Fuck. Yes. Please. God._

My mind has melted into that blissful state of chaos Bella's touch so often ignites, a turmoil of floating thoughts and images. No anchors. Just a powerful swell of desire. I don't even know how to order my limbs to move. But my hands fall from her face all on their own at her command.

We don't break eye contact as she scoots down, shoving the thick comforter out of the way and off the bed. My breath is loud and labored, with quiet moans escaping every time I exhale. She positions herself between my legs and crouches down on her knees, with the perfect curves of her behind poking up. My insides tense at the sight, coiling into a tight spring.

She looks at me over the swollen tip of my throbbing erection. Her warm breath fanning over it is almost too much to endure, when she says, "Can you give me a little warning? Tell me when you're about to come, okay?"

I really don't know if I can do what she's asking, but I nod my head yes anyway, frantically. I just want this… make love to her mouth; I want this so bad. A warning – I can do that, yes, just… please…

She lowers her head, and licks me, just once, slowly, from base to tip.

"Coming…" I cry.

.

.

(BELLA)

"Are we okay, Bella?"

"Of course we are. All lovers have fights from time to time. And you had every reason to be mad."

He gives a low, unconvinced hum, as if he doesn't quite agree. The sound vibrates through his body, tickling my cheek where my face is resting on his abdomen. His boxers are gone; not willing to leave the bed, I threw them to the floor after I'd used them to clean him up. Now I indulge in lazily raking my fingertips through the short curls of his pubes.

His hand, that's been stroking the hairline in the nape of my neck, stills. "But I don't want to fight with you. I hated it."

I turn my head to meet his eye. "Maybe we should just avoid being in my bathroom together," I suggest jokingly. "It seems every time we're having a real drama, we're in my bathroom."

He looks at me as if I have lost my mind. "Bella, I don't think bathrooms have anything to do with that."

I sigh; my feeble attempt at being funny is totally lost on him. I turn my entire body around, so my other cheek comes to lie on his stomach, and say, "You're right. It's just a room."

He keeps looking at me, that Little Green signature frown in full force. It's kind of adorable, and I can hardly hold back the smile, as I reach out and stroke his cheek. His lips turn into the indication of a pout.

"That was a joke, right?" he asks and squints his eyes.

"Uh-huh, I tried." I bite my lip to suppress a grin, but to no avail.

He shakes his head. "Oh man…"

"Never mind," I giggle. "It wasn't the best joke anyway."

"Yeah." He scratches his scalp. "You do have a point though. What if we stay here in my bed all day? Just to prevent drama?"

I playfully punch his midriff, and he doubles over with a breathless chuckle. "Ow!"

"Nice one, Edward."

His eyes light up. "Really? It was funny, yes?"

_Aw, you sweet man…_

"Yup, very funny. And quite cheeky, too."

"Thanks," he says proudly.

.

.

Jacob is still there when I open the door to my apartment; of course he is. I'm a little ashamed of myself at the disappointment I feel. What kind of friend does it make me, secretly wishing to avoid the inconvenience of talking to him, hearing him out? Until he made his sudden re-appearance, I hadn't realized how thoroughly I had scratched him from my life already, in just a few days. What does that say about the relationship we had?

And now it even bothers me that he's here. I'm no longer mad at him for the spectacular entrance he made, but damn, I can't help it – his presence is annoying, and I selfishly hope we can get this over with quickly.

Jacob rises from the couch as I enter the living room with Little Green in tow. Edward simply refused to stay behind and let me meet my ex-husband alone. I didn't argue much, and he promised to not interfere, as long as Jacob didn't "overstep", as he put it. He even agreed to retreat into another room to give us some privacy, in case I asked him to. For me, that was good enough. For Jake? We'll see, I guess.

"Hey Jake," I say, way more chipper than I feel. "Slept well?"

"I… yes, thank you." Jake's eyes snap from me to Edward and back; he looks uncharacteristically remorseful. "Uhm, I made coffee," he adds.

"Oh, we already had some." I force a smile onto my face.

Jake starts fidgeting a little, and in the silence that follows, I realize that he expected me to greet him with a hug, like we always did. But that idea didn't even cross my mind. I didn't even step close enough for a handshake – that would have been awkward anyway. Instead I just stopped in the middle of the room to say "Hey, Jake". Which is kind of awkward, too, come to think of it. But I don't feel any urge to touch him at all.

Edward chooses this moment to step past me and extend a hand towards Jake. "Hello," he says calmly. "I didn't get a chance to introduce myself yesterday. I'm Edward Cullen. You're Jacob."

For a moment, I'm quite sure I heard him say, 'I'm Edward Cullen. You're the asshole', but that's probably my puzzled mind, playing tricks on me.

Jake takes the offered hand like in trance. Edward closes his fingers around Jake's and gives a brief tug that might or might not pass for a handshake. Then he pulls his hand back as if he burnt it and takes a step back.

"Edward," Jake mumbles, and I can almost see the wheels turning. "You're the Cullen kid? You are… Bells, is he the one you…?"

"Jake!" I gasp at his unbelievable rudeness. "I think the term you're looking for is 'nice to meet you, Edward'!"

"Yeah, of course. Sorry, man, I'm just surprised is all. We never met, I think?"

_No, you didn't, dammit! And surprised, my ass! You never wanted to meet the astonishing boy I looked after almost every fucking day and couldn't stop talking about. Because you never cared and you never listened. And you never ever -_

"I am the one." Edward says, nothing more. But it's enough to interrupt my inner rant and keep me from working myself up any further.

I cast a glance at him, trying to figure out his feelings. He doesn't seem to be angry or nervous, but it's hard to tell. From where I stand, I can only see his profile, but I could swear that his eyes are fixated on Jake's, and I think my jaw just dropped for a moment.

Before Jake or I can muster any response, Little Green turns to me and asks, "Do you want me to give you some privacy now?"

I smile at him and nod my head yes – I better get this over with, given that Jake seems to have lost his manners and his mind altogether. Or maybe he never had good manners to begin with, but either way, I'll let him say what he needs to say now, then goodbye and out of here.

Edward spins on his heel but then hesitates. Turning back to me, he puts a hand on my shoulder and leans in for a kiss on the cheek. With a sideway glance to Jacob – yes, he meets his eyes indeed – he makes sure Jake didn't miss this; then he heads for the kitchen. Of course, he leaves the door ajar, demonstrating his personal understanding of "privacy" as far as ex-husbands are concerned.

With a sigh, I walk over to the couch, awkwardly favoring my injured heel, which doesn't go unnoticed by Jake. He reaches for my arm as if to steady me, but I wave him off and motion for him to sit back down instead. I take a seat on the couch as well, an arm's length away from him, and put my hands in my lap. Taking a few deep breaths, I collect myself. Then I look up at him.

"I'm really sorry about your foot, Bells."

"Jake," I say, without even acknowledging his lame apology, "why are you here?"

"I didn't know where else to go. You're my only friend!" he almost whines.

"Is that so? I remember you texting me about how many new friends you've made in Seattle." It surprises me how hard it is to keep the acid out of my voice.

"They're all Seth's friends actually. And Seth and I were fighting, so those guys would have been precious little help, don't you think?"

Well, that kind of makes sense. I nod in understanding.

"Besides," he adds, "they're all out and proud and shit, and that was the whole point of our argument."

I raise a brow at him. "I also remember you texting me that you came out, too. This is a wee bit confusing actually..."

Jake starts fidgeting uncomfortably. "Yeah, well... I am. With Seth's friends, of course. They all know about us. And when we go out, at the gay bars and such, no problem. But now Seth wants me to come out to my dad as well. My dad, Bella! Can you even imagine?"

"I figure that won't be exactly an easy thing to do."

He huffs. "Most definitely not!"

"So you refused."

"I've been avoiding that discussion for weeks, and it was fine until now. It wasn't that important, you know. We were just fine, but then..."

"What changed?"

"Well, Seth… he… he proposed to me."

Wow! I'm rendered speechless for a moment; I certainly didn't expect something like that. Also, I instantly pity Seth, because being in love with Jake really sucks – I just don't think he has it in him to return the sentiment. For all I know now, Jake is a selfish bastard who can't really help himself. Of course, I keep those thoughts to myself. I might be wrong about that after all. As much as the idea hurts, maybe it was just me he couldn't love.

"That is… kinda big, Jake."

"I know. It was incredible. He had a ring and flowers and everything. He scared the shit outta me when he got down on one knee and..." he trails off, shaking his head.

"What did you say?" I ask softly. All bitchiness has left me.

He shakes his head once more. Then he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, and hides his face in his hands.

"Jake?"

"I ran," he says in defeat.

"Oh no, you didn't!" I exclaim. At the same time, a mumbled "asshole" can be heard coming from the kitchen. I would laugh at Little Green's comment, if I wasn't so nonplussed by Jake's admission.

"You really left Seth sitting there…"

"On one knee, yes."

"…and ran to your ex-wife, of all people?"

"Not proud of it, ok? I didn't know what else to do."

"No, you didn't," I mutter under my breath. "You never did."

The silence stretches awkwardly as I wait for Jake to take his hands off of his face eventually. When he does, he looks utterly crestfallen.

"You're an asshole," I declare, almost expecting Edward to break into applause in the kitchen. But no clapping sound emerges.

"I know," Jake says.

"You could just have been honest and said no."

"But that's the point, Bells. I think I would have said yes. I love him!"

I bite my tongue. This is not the time for sarcasm. And this is not about me. "Then why the hell did you run?"

"Uh… the coming-out-to-my-dad thing, remember? I can't possibly marry without telling him."

"So you're an asshole  _and_  a coward."

"Fuck, Bella…"

"Don't you dare fuck-Bella me, Jake. If you and Seth are that serious and you want that sort of commitment, you really should grow a pair and stand for who you are and what you believe in. Seth deserves that much, don't you think? Holy shit, the guy asked you to marry him! Besides, I truly believe Billy won't eat you. You're his only son and he loves you."

"I know, but…"

"But what? Oh – is it the other guys in the reservation? Is that what you're worried about? What they will think of you? Maybe you'd be surprised. And even if they don't understand, what do you even care? You turned your back on the rez anyway, didn't you? You don't live there anymore."

"No, I don't," he replies, a little fight returning to his voice. "But my dad does. And it will be embarrassing for him, if…"

"He'll live," I cut in. "You cannot run away from that decision for ever. You left that place for a reason. You left it to be with Seth!"

You left  _me_  to be with Seth, I think bitterly. And you didn't think twice about  _my_  embarrassment, by the way.

"Jake, you need to call Seth. You two need to work this out. I can't help you with that. Call him and tell him that you love him. "

"I tried, like, ten times this morning. He won't take my calls."

"Then get your ass into the car and get to him as fast as you can."

Jake jumps to his feet so suddenly, I flinch at the unexpected move. "You're right," he says. "I gotta go." He snatches his jacket off the couch and heads for the exit, as if I wasn't here any more. With his hand almost on the door knob, he turns around.

"Thank you," he says, and it sounds sincere.

"You're welcome. But I didn't do anything."

Jake smiles. "Well, you let me crash on your couch. And you kept your boyfriend from killing me."

I snort. "Yeah…"

"So you and Edward Cullen, huh?"

I simply cock my head, and it's enough to make him raise his hands defensively. "Hey, don't give me that look, Bells. I'm just surprised is all."

"Jake?"

"Yeah?"

"Bye."

"Bye, Bells. You're the best. Bye."

And off he goes. When the door closes behind him, I slump on the couch and breathe a sigh of relief. Out of nowhere, Edward is by my side, pulling me against his chest with one arm around my shoulders. Outside, Jake revs the engine. Then we hear the rusty truck depart, backfiring a few times as if in protest.

"I hope, he'll marry that Seth friend, so he'll never have any more reasons to come back here," Little Green announces grumpily.

I hope so, too – on both counts, to be perfectly honest. But chances are, Jake fucks this up again. His lack of backbone is pathetic. How did I not see this earlier?

"You know," I muse aloud, "I'm starting to think that it was actually me being the stronger one in our marriage all the time. He just somehow made me believe the opposite."

Little Green squeezes my shoulder. "You are very strong, Bella. You always were."

We sit like that for a while, holding each other in amicable silence, simply enjoying each other's presence. When I'm done reacquainting myself to the warmth and safety of being in Edward's arms without interference from the outside world, I say, "Will you tell me about your meeting in Seattle?"

"In a while," he answers after a moment, kind of absently. I wonder if he's still having trouble taking his mind off that whole Jake incident.

"Bella?"

"Yes?"

"If I ask you some day to marry me, would you?"

_What? Wow! Easy there…_

I let go an awkward laugh and, feeling slightly alarmed, wiggle out of his embrace and straighten myself to look at him. "Uhm… I really don't think… I don't know. I mean, the ink on my divorce papers hasn't even properly dried yet."

"I mean, not now, just… some day?" he adds, absolutely serious. "I know you probably think you will never marry again, and I understand that. But… I'm not like him; you know that. Marriage would be different with me. I promise."

_Jesus…!_

I open my mouth to say something smart and reasonable that won't encourage him any further, but the breath necessary to do so catches in my throat. My mind screams NO, but one billion butterflies in my stomach sing YES.

"Can I ask you some day?" he asks again, and the longing and sincerity in his eyes almost kills me.

"Some day," I whisper, giving up resistance. It's futile anyway.

 


	38. Chapter 38

**Little Green and Easybella cont. (38)**

(EDWARD)

Breathe. I just need to breathe.

I can do that. As long as I don't look up, I can breathe. Even though it doesn't feel like there's any air getting inside my lungs, I know I'm actually breathing. I keep telling myself that.  _I'm not really suffocating, I'm not, I'm not…all just in my mind… not real, not real…_

"Yes, that's all he said. And no, I don't know his name or what's wrong with him, okay? Can you just inform his doctor, please!"

The girl is yelling now, yelling so loud I can hear the words despite pressing my palms against my ears. Is it good or bad that she's yelling? Good or bad? Is she even still on the phone, or is someone else here now? I can't look up, or else my throat will tighten even more. Eyes shut. Breathe.

"Hell if I know! Look, I'm just the intern here, I'm all alone at the moment, and this is really fucking scary. If his doctor can't come here and get him, then send an ambulance or something, for fuck's sake!"

 _No! Not good, not good… no, no, no…_ "Nononononono!"

"Oh my God, he's really freaking out on me here; do you hear that? What am I… no, he's rocking back and forth like a kennel dog gone stir crazy. I swear… yes… no, I don't think so… yes… yes, I'll wait."

She's stopped talking. Okay, so we're waiting now, waiting and breathing. I can do that, because  _I'm not really suffocating!_  Everything is just in my mind. Only, it isn't. The howling and wailing is not in my mind; it's everywhere around me, and it won't stop. What's the girl doing now? Is she even still here? I can't… the noise just won't stop, and I can't…

"Hey."

Eyes shut, ears shut. Breathe. Not going to pass out.

"Hey, it's your doctor on the phone now. He wants to talk to you."

I reach out blindly, the animal noises piercing my brain before can replace my palm with the cell phone against my ear. And even then, I can hardly hear him calling my name, "Edward?"

But it doesn't matter. I take a deep breath, as good as possible, and open my eyes. They've got a tile floor in here. Why haven't I noticed before? I'm sitting on a tile floor… that's good. Structure. Repetition.

"Edward, is that you? Come on, talk to me."

Focusing on the comforting order underneath me, I manage another breath, deep enough to make myself heard over the ongoing clamor around me.

"Carlisle… help."

"Hang on, son. I'm on my way."

.

.

"Better now?" Carlisle asks, opening another soda and handing it to me. I've downed the first one in one go; I'm that thirsty.

"Much better, thank you."

I can't look at him, not now anyway, but I'm really grateful. We're parked right in front of the animal shelter's gate, a visual reminder of the hell he's just rescued me from.

Carlisle's car is quiet. And safe. I don't even mind that he had to manhandle me to get me here. I was in no shape to cooperate when he arrived. I know that much. Shame! I scared the girl. And I probably scared the cats, too. And they were upset to begin with.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, Edward. I'm happy to help. Anytime."

"I scared that girl."

"That you did."

Carlisle chuckles quietly, and I cast a quick glance at him without turning my head. He isn't looking at me either but at the steering wheel instead, a smile playing around his lips. I like that smile. I also like that he's not saying anything about the small noises the leather of the passenger seat is making with my movements – I'm still rocking a bit, though it's slowing down.

"And that's funny why?"

"Well, I'm not saying that the girl being scared or you freaking out was a funny thing, but…"

He pauses and turns to me, probably to check whether he's upset me with his humor. He hasn't. I know he's not making fun of me. I'm just really curious. I want him to know it's fine, so I will myself to face him. I almost meet his eyes, settling for the safe spot above his shoulder at the last second. But I smile at him.

His own smile grows wider, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Really, did you see her face?"

I shake my head no. "I wasn't looking."

"Ah no, I suppose you weren't."

"So she looked funny, yes?"

"Very."

Right now, it's Carlisle looking funny with his mouth drawn into a twitching pucker and his shoulders shaking. I snicker because his mirth simply jumps across. And then it sort of bounces back and the laugh Carlisle struggled to contain spills over. We both chuckle and snort, and it feels really good. It's somehow hard to stop laughing, actually. It keeps pulling at my midriff, bubbling up from deep within over and over, and I don't even really know what's the matter. I just can't help it.

Carlisle wipes his eyes, snorting and shaking his head. "Oh man," he says. And again, "Oh man…" Then he releases a long and loud breath through pursed lips.

I mimic him, exhaling in the same way, and it helps me relax a great deal. Also, I'm not rocking anymore. We just laughed away all the tension. Hilarity beats anxiety, or so it seems. A valid piece of information, which I store away carefully.

"So, what's next?" Carlisle says. "Want me to drive you home? We can come back and get your car another time."

"No." I look up and find his eyes this time. It's not bad at all.

"Care to tell me what you were doing here then?"

"Yes." Of course! I want Carlisle to help me with this. "I need to get a cat."

"A cat," he repeats after me and raises his brows.

I'm sure he heard me just fine, and it doesn't sound like a question either. But it makes me feel like I should elaborate on my idea, especially because I need Carlisle to assist me. I'm not going inside the shelter alone again.

"It's because Bella and I, we talked this morning, and…"  _And what? Where to begin?_

Carlisle waits for me to continue. Only, I don't. It seems like such a complicated story to tell all of a sudden. Finally, he clears his throat and asks, "How are things with Bella anyway these days?"

What a strange question. "We're in love. I love her." Is this what he wants to know? "Things are… really good."

"I'm happy to hear that, son."

"Carlisle, this is not helping. I'm trying to explain… we were talking about the cat."

"Of course, sorry. Go on, please. So it has to do with Bella?"

"Yes," I say, grateful that we're back on track. There's something about Carlisle that helps me stay focused and get to the point. A thing I just recently noticed. His calmness is part of it. He never judges. He doesn't hover. And he doesn't push. He just asks the right questions. Well, mostly.

"And it has to do with what you two were talking about this morning?"

I nod my head yes. "I said something to her that made her sad, even though she tried to not let it show. But I noticed it anyway. And I really didn't mean to upset her."

"What did you say to her?"

.

.

(BELLA)

"He said what?" Tanya's eyes grow big like two eggs sunny side up. "Why would he want such a thing? Did you two have a fight?"

"No, we didn't. Everything was fine; it really came out of nowhere."

I pick listlessly at the lettuce leaf poking out of my sandwich. The drugstore's been a busy place this morning, and usually I'm ready to scarf down a fried chicken whole by lunchtime. But I'm not hungry today.

"I mean, Edward and I are –  _were_  – practically living together. I can't remember the last time I slept in my own bed… alone."

"Maybe it's just a misunderstanding. Are you sure he…"

"Come on, Denali, what part of 'Bella, I need you to stay at your own place for a while' can possibly be misunderstood?"

"Fuck!" she mutters.

Yeah, right. Dumped until further notice.

Tanya shakes her head. "Artists," she huffs, making it sound like serious name-calling. "And musicians are the worst, I tell you. First they woo you with their music, serenade you, drive you crazy with their talented hands and shit, and then all of a sudden they pretend you don't exist, and it's all 'oh I have that important gig' and 'baby, I need to practice night and day' and 'oh blah blah'."

She doesn't look at me during her monologue. She's unwrapping her own lunch methodically, even smoothing out the corners of the paper, like she's planning to put a price tag on it and re-sell it. Now she points her sandwich at me as if it was a weapon.

"You know what, Swan? You're a groupie now."

She bites off a big chunk and chews with relish. "Groupies," she mumbles past a mouthful of tuna and mayonnaise, "that's what we all become sooner or later when we hook up with rock stars."

I gape at her.

"Damn, Denali, you're so compassionate and full of wisdom. How did I not notice this before?"

"You're welcome. And you did notice. That's why you confide in me. I'm the best."

"Oh, sheesh…" I roll my eyes at her, and she giggles.

"Edward is not like that," I object weakly.

"Nuh-uh." She swallows noisily and dabs at her mouth with a paper napkin. "He isn't. He's a sweetheart, and if he says he needs to focus on practicing, then he is probably really practicing night and day. Not like that long-fingered bass player I dated who would screw anything with a heartbeat, while I thought he… uhm, whatever."

"Wow, is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Uhm, yes?" Tanya's innocent face would be hilarious any other time, but I'm not in a laughing mood.

"Well, it doesn't. I know he needs to practice. But until yesterday, it was like he couldn't even breathe properly without me being close, and this morning, he practically kicked me out!"

I sigh. If I'm being honest with myself, I haven't really given much thought about how Edward needed to prepare for his concert, or when he was practicing, or how much. Theoretically, I know it takes a lot of work and training to play like he does, even for a wunderkind. But the topic just didn't come up before, so his revelation was quite the shock.

"Look," Tanya says, very serious suddenly, "I'm pretty sure it is hard for him, too. Maybe harder than it is for you. Have you thought about that?"

I shake my head no. Out of the blue, I feel like crying.

"I imagine your presence can be quite the distraction. He is absolutely crazy about you, Bella. When you're in the same room, he seems to be oblivious to anything and anyone else. I've seen that. He orbits around you like you're his sun."

"I know," I whisper shakily. "How's he supposed to work with me around, right?"

"Shit, Swan, you gonna cry?"

Wiping at my eyes with the back of my hand, I put on a brave smile. "Am not."

"Yes am," Tanya retorts and hands me one of the paper napkins. "Boy, you've got it just as bad for him."

No kidding. My fake smile turns into a genuine one; I just can't help myself.

"But you know, I just don't get why he can't play the piano during the day when I'm at work. We could still spend the nights together." Damn, now I sound like a whiny bitch. "And why so suddenly?"

She shrugs. "Fuck if I know. That's artists for you."

_Well, if that isn't helpful…_

"So he's not gonna pick you up after work today?"

"Just today, and only to drop me off at my own place. From tomorrow on, I will ride the bus again. He offered to loan me his car, but I don't want that."

"That's very… thoughtful of him though. He cares a great deal about you."

"I know."

I still feel like I'm being tossed aside, like I have outlived my usefulness. I know I'm being irrational, but I just didn't expect this to happen. It's like getting divorced all over again, sort of, and I dread the prospect of coming home to an empty apartment for the next who-knows-how-many nights. I dread it with a passion.

It's probably true what Tanya said, that staying away from me isn't easy for Edward either. And it should be a comforting thought. Only, it isn't. I don't want him to be upset in any way. Instead I cling to the idea that, once he starts playing, he'll be so immersed in his music that nothing else matters for the time being.

"I hope he won't forget to eat and drink."

"What?" Tanya asks absentmindedly behind her heart-shaped, pink pocket mirror, refreshing her lipstick.

"He tends to do that when he plays," I say. "Remember that night when he forgot to pick me up?"

"Yes?" She flips the mirror shut and looks at me, pressing her lips together and spreading the red color further than she likely intended.

"Yeah, I found him sleeping on the piano bench, buck-naked, chilled to the bone and pretty much dehydrated."

She shrugs nonchalantly. "Like I said… artists. Wait – he was naked?"

I give her my best stink-eye.

"Well, be a good groupie then and make sure he stays well nourished."

"Don't call me that."

"No, I'm serious. You could cook something and leave it at his place, like, you know, in stealth mode or something. Anyway, time's up, Swan. We need to drag our sweet asses back to work. You okay, or do you need a few more minutes?"

"Nah, I'm good," I assure her, although I'm not. But it's no use moping. "Go get the front door; I'll just tidy up back here."

Tanya gives me a brief nod and leaves the backroom. Two seconds later, she pokes her head back in. "Bella?"

"What?"

"Things will fall into place, okay? The man loves you!"

I smile at her. "Thanks, Tanya."

.

.

(EDWARD)

"…and then I remembered that time when she told me that she couldn't stand coming home to her empty place every night after she divorced that ex-husband asshole of hers. She's just not cut out to be alone all the time, you know, she hates it. So she thought about getting herself a cat for company, did you know that?"

Carlisle shakes his head no. He has that weird expression on his face that I'm unable to read, like he's in awe. Or maybe it just means he's really listening, for which I'm grateful. However, he says nothing but just taps the bottom of my soda can lightly with his index finger. I lift it to my mouth on autopilot and take a long swig. It does me good; I haven't even noticed my parched throat.

"Thanks," I say and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. And now I've lost the thread. Where was I?

"I have a litter box, food, toys, a cat bed and a carrier and everything… it's all in my car…"

That sounds dumb. I'm lost.

"So I take it Bella didn't get herself a cat," Carlisle interposes helpfully. Good, yes…

"She couldn't go through with it. This place is terrible! So much unhappiness; the cats, they are crying all the time. All the time!"

Carlisle nods thoughtfully. "I'm sure it's not as bad as it looks though. The people here take really good care of the animals."

Yes, of course they do. That girl was really nice; she talked to the cats soothingly, and she petted them. But it was the overall pattern of that place that got to me, like a thick cloud of hopelessness and fear.

"They were abandoned before they came here. You can see that in their eyes; hear it in the noises they made. So much noise in there. I know it's a good thing that the animal shelter takes them in, but they didn't look rescued, they looked forlorn. Isolated. Like they kind of know that they… they don't belong."

_Like an inverted autism of sorts, forced on them from the outside._

"They're in small boxes, and they are waiting. Some are scared. Some are angry. And some have given up altogether, the quiet ones, you know? The noise was overwhelming, but it was the quiet ones that choked me up just looking at them. Those don't even wait anymore."

The quiet ones with their lifeless eyes were the worst. I only now realize what really freaked me out in there as I'm talking to Carlisle.

We're still holding eye contact, and it doesn't bother me. It rather grounds me, and I don't want to look away this time. He still seems to be… I don't know, astonished? Maybe that's it. But he also looks pleased. I guess he's never heard me use so many words back to back before. I know that must please him. And I'm glad it does.

"Thanks for coming and rescuing me," I say.

"You're welcome."

"I would have shown that autism card you gave me, but I'm keeping it in my car, like you told me I should."

"That's okay. You weren't expecting anything bad to happen here."

"And I didn't want to call Esme, because… I just didn't."

"I'm glad you made them call me."

We sit in silence for a moment. I've really run out of steam now. I wasn't just rambling, was I? I've talked so damn much; I feel kind of hollow. Like a Halloween pumpkin, only without the light inside. Did I even get any point across?

Apparantly, I did. Because Carlisle takes a deep breath, rubs his hands together and says, "So you have everything in your car but a cat."

That simple, yes. But…

"I can't go in there again."

"I know."

"I don't want Bella to feel alone when I can't be with her."

"So let's get her a cat then, shall we?"

It sounds so easy suddenly.

"Yes," I say, relieved. "Or better, two cats. I don't want the cat to feel alone either. And two can keep each other company when Bella's at work."

Carlisle chuckles quietly; he looks happy.

"Two cats then," he agrees cheerfully. "Come on, let's go."

.

.

(BELLA)

Just when I think I've somewhat come to terms with Edward going into retreat, willing to support his decision for the sake of his musical virtuosity, he's suddenly acting weirder than weird with me. Even Tanya noticed how fidgety he was when he picked me up tonight. And then, no kiss for me, no Hi for Tanya, nothing. He couldn't get me out of the drugstore and into his car fast enough.

Through the entire ride home, he doesn't say a single word. Okay, I'm used to the lack of conversation whenever he focuses on the driving, but this is different. The silence is loaded, and his lips are pressed into a thin line, as if he's afraid something might slip past them that I'm not supposed to hear.

_He is hiding something from me. Great!_

I close my eyes and will myself not to panic, but my insides are in a tight knot already. This is much worse than it was this morning. His revelation was a shock, but at least, there was some reasoning behind it then. My boyfriend is a concert pianist, a very sensitive one at that, and he has a big show coming up – I can deal with that. But this right now…

This is scary. And it feels like betrayal. It feels like I'm about to get dumped. Edward has never lied to me before. Hell, I didn't think he even had it in him to hold anything back. How has everything gone so wrong so quickly?

When he puts the Volvo into park in front of our apartment building, I cast a glance at him. He pulls the key out of the ignition and closes his eyes. That small muscle in his jaw is twitching nervously, and then he takes a deep breath, as if he's working up the nerve to… do what? Tell me this is it?

No way! I'm not going down without a fight; he will not just drop me off at my place before we've had a serious talk.

I open my mouth to speak, but he's out of the car and at the passenger side before I can even blink. The door flies open, he reaches for me and pulls me to my feet.

"Bella, I want to show you something," he says, and the nervous excitement surrounds him like an electric field. "It's inside your apartment."

_What the hell?_

"Edward, I don't know what –"

He squints his eyes at me as I speak; then I'm in his arms before I can even finish my sentence.

"Why are you scared?" he asks, totally stealing my thunder. "Don't be. It's nothing to be scared of, I promise."

.

.

Edward insists on being the one to open my apartment door. I'm too out of it at this point to even wonder what it is now, or why he just shoves one foot inside and peeks through the crack before opening the door completely. With no will of my own and limp like a rag doll, I let him drag me inside. He quickly closes the door behind me and switches on the light. And then I just stand there and stare, unable to move except for an uncontrollable twitching in my left eyelid.

I stare into a pair of bright, yellow eyes, and they most definitely stare back at me. Then the cat jumps off the small dresser, lands on the carpet with a muffled thud and disappears in the direction of my living room.

_Wait – the CAT?_

"There's a cat in my living room," I blurt unwittingly. I'm definitely not at my best right now, brains-wise. My feet start following the animal of their own volition.

"Yes," comes Little Green's voice from right behind me, a little breathless. "Do you like her?"

"What do you mean, do I like her? What is a cat doing here? Whose is it…"

"It's yours."

"… and what the hell has happened here?"

During my absence, someone has turned my living room into something that, until now, I have only seen on the internet and didn't know actually existed. The floor is scattered with what seems to be toys of some variety, soft balls, fluffy pieces of fake fur and a small stuffed mouse. There's a miniature couch-like cushion with little cartoon cats printed all over its fabric. I can also spot a few fish-shaped crackers here and there. And in the middle of it all… the CAT, enthroned in a brown cardboard box.

"There's a litter box, too. But I put it in the bathroom."

"You put what… where…?" I stammer.

Edward rushes past me, crouches down and starts raking up the scattered cat treats with his hands. "She wasn't supposed to do that; she must have found the open package in the kitchen."

I sink down onto the couch, taking in the small mayhem in front of me. It slowly dawns on me that this is what my adorable boyfriend was trying to keep from me in the car. And that he is barely keeping it together right now, judging by the way his hands are shaking. I think my reaction wasn't quite what he's been hoping for.

"Edward, stop it," I say softly.

He freezes and turns his head into my direction, but barely looks at me.

"Come here, love."

I pat the couch, and he gets up and comes to sit next to me, still clutching a fistful of cat crackers. The cat is watching us with eyes full of wisdom. Or maybe they're just full of disapproval. The fuck if I know.

"So you bought me a cat?" Because that's what he did, right?

"I didn't want you to be alone once I start practicing. You wanted a cat, didn't you? Do you like her?"

I'm melt a little inside. Also, I'm on the verge of crying, but I chalk that up to the emotional rollercoaster this day has been.

"I did. And I do. She's beautiful."

And that's no lie. It's a petite cat, amber-colored, except for her white belly and white hind legs. Her chin and a small bib underneath are snow white, too.

I press a kiss to his cheek. "I can't believe you did that."

"Her name is Little Lucy, but I call her Lee-Loo," he says, much more relaxed now. "Although… you know, you can call her whatever you want, it doesn't matter because she can't hear you."

"Why is that?"

"She is deaf. And old. But she's really sweet; she knows tricks! Watch out…"

Holding out one of the treats, he bends forward and coos, "Come here, Lee-Loo." He is so elated all of a sudden that I have to bite back a laugh, especially when the cat doesn't budge, not to mention performs any trick.

"Uhm… I think she might have had too many of these already," he mumbles, then raises his voice in mock-outrage, glaring at the feline, "…because she was a VERY BAD CAT!"

This time, there's no helping it – I burst into giggles. Edward beams at me. Undeterred by Lee-Loo's lack of cooperation, he gets on his knees next to the cat-in-a-box.

"Ok, but this is really cool," he says and starts stroking the cat's side with the knuckle of his index finger. "If you do this… very gingerly… like this…"

Lee-Loo squints her eyes, puts her head between her front legs and falls over like a sack of potatoes, exposing her fluffy underside.

"…then she does this! And you can rub her belly," he concludes triumphantly.

Joining Edward and my new pet on the floor, I do just that. Touching the soft fur feels wonderful, and I instantly love how her low purr vibrates in my fingertips.

"This is amazing, Edward. I love her already."

"So you don't mind that she's old and deaf? Because I can't return her, you know. And I wouldn't do that anyway, but I could keep her myself if –"

I shut him up with a kiss, and he pulls me close in an instant. The kiss deepens, just like that, and becomes a tad desperate for a second. Maybe it really is like Tanya said, and the impending separation is harder on him than on me.

"She's perfect," I whisper, when our mouths part.

"I know, right? Carlisle helped me get her. He made them bring a few cats he'd picked out into the office of the animal shelter, so I could choose one. And Lee-Loo was so calm and pretty. Actually, I wanted to take two cats, so they would keep each other company when you're at work. But they said, Lee-Loo doesn't get along too well with other cats, due to her age and because she can't hear."

"Well, that's understandable. Maybe she doesn't mind being alone for a few hours a day then."

"No, she likes her peace. But she likes to have her own human. That's you now. Maybe just don't sneak up on her, okay?"

"Okay."

_God, he is adorable…_

"Oh, and she really likes cardboard boxes. I didn't know that before, or else I wouldn't have bothered with the cat bed. I don't think she'll sleep in there."

Yeah, he went a little overboard with the cat equipment anyway, but I'm not going to mention it, of course. It's endearing, and the thoughtfulness and love behind his gift is way more overwhelming than the amount of cat toys in my living room.

I pull him into a tight hug. "Thank you, Little Green. Thank you for bringing me Lee-Loo. Thank you for caring so much. Thank you for loving me."

"Bella…" he sighs.

We stay like that for a while, holding each other, my new furry housemate momentarily forgotten. Then we settle on the couch again, cuddling and watching Lee-Loo licking her paws. When she finally curls into a ball inside her box and falls asleep, I can't hold back my yawns any longer. I'm almost dead on my feet, but still…

"Edward, I know what we agreed upon, but can you stay with me just for one more night? I just want to sleep in the same bed with you. I promise, Lee-Loo and I will leave you alone from tomorrow until the day after the concert without complaint. But don't go tonight, please."

Without saying anything, Edward scoops me up and carries me to my bed. Between kisses, he undresses first me, then himself. And that's all the answer I need.

.

.

(EDWARD)

When my Bella is close to orgasm, her face transforms into a thing of beauty. She's always beautiful to me, of course, but that's not what I mean. It's just so different when she's getting there, unlike any other way I know her. And unlike any other way I've got to know and love her features.

I always want to look at her when she comes, and I want to take mental photographs and store them away for later, like I always do, so I can look at them again and again. But it never works. It never works.

However much I try, all that will remain later are mere fragments and blurry images of what is unfolding before my eyes in almost transcendental sharpness and clarity right now, even though I seem to have all the time in the world to watch. We're both on our backs, side by side, and her head is resting on my left upper arm with her face turned to me… not quite nestling into my shoulder, not too close. So if I tilt my head back just a little bit, I can focus all right. I can see everything.

We didn't even intend to make love tonight; Bella was so tired and kind of tense. So we just went to bed, and I held her and stroked her to help her relax. I stroked her back and her arms and her upper thighs where I could reach with my free arm without bending or moving too much. When she slowly rolled onto her back beside me, and I stroked her belly, too. She took my hand and put it between her legs. I knew it was so I could help her relax even better, not meant for me to get on top and almost crush her with my own desires. So I stopped moving at all, except for my index finger on her clitoris, which was slippery and soft under my fingertip. I don't mind not being touched in return, because everything I do and see echoes in my cock anyway and makes me all warm and tingly.

I have circled and rubbed her sweet spot for minutes, and watched her breathing sped up. I have watched her shy smile and the flutter of her closed eyelids. And now her lips part slightly, and I know they will form that silent 'o' before long. Maybe she will draw her upper lip back in a kind of sneer - sometimes it gets stuck on her teeth for a moment because her mouth has all gone dry with her labored breathing. There are tiny, tiny beads of sweat glistening in that small dent between her mouth and her nose, and I want to lick them away… if I only could stop watching.

I can see everything, and like always, it takes my breath away. But it's nothing I'll be able to recall. It is a fleeting miracle, the beauty of Bella's face when she lets go and pleasure takes over. Like those concentric waves when you drop a pebble into the water. It happens, and it's perfect, and then it's gone. And you want to do it again. So otherworldly is her beauty for ja brief moment in time, it defies memory. Maybe that is why I want to make her come again and again.

But for the next few weeks, I won't get any chance to make her come. I won't be making love to her at all. I'll need to focus on my music. I'll be going to Seattle every day for rehearsals, and practicing at home in between. I won't sleep much, maybe four or five hours a day. Sleep, eat, play. I won't be good company, not even for Bella.

I should have told her earlier, but it just didn't come to mind earlier. My mind was filled with Bella, and most of my days were like a dance. And some days were like a fight, like when I learned about the letters, or when ex-husband asshole was here.

And now come the days of work.

I won't miss her, I think. Not while I'm working anyway. There will be no room for it.

But right now, while she's sleeping, warm and soft, in my arms, I do miss her in advance.

Right now, it breaks my heart.

 


End file.
